


A Faulty Code

by consecrated



Series: Rebuilding [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor POV, Emotionally Repressed, Fluff and Angst, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gavin is a disaster gay, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-24 15:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15633585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consecrated/pseuds/consecrated
Summary: Life is difficult to navigate, and more so when every piece of stability you have in life crumbles around you. Without Cyberlife and his directives to dictate his life, Connor starts becoming overwhelmed by his independence. Surprisingly, it's Gavin Reed who helps him understand what it means to have control over one's life and how to want happiness. The human's presence and efforts to change his own ways adds another layer of confusion though, as Connor wonders why Reed has become so important to him and his concept of strength, control, and authenticity.It takes an android panic attack, three conversation, a cup of coffee, a bottle of gin, and a kiss for Connor to figure it out and the answer is annoyingly simple.(Or: The One Where Connor Realizes He's Allowed To Be Happy)(Companion fic toA Scratched CD, from Connor's POV. Can be read standalone.)





	1. Where

It started with a command.

( _Find the connection between Dr. Adrian Rockport and the disappearance of the three missing girls)_

Easily filed under commands, Connor’s options were clear: look over evidence, analyze victim profiles, profile the suspect. That’s where it all began, after that one command set in place like a seed buried deep, and the urgency sprouted and bloomed. It was that driving force that had been programmed into him that if he did not succeed, could not perform, he would be deactivated.

Connor was a prototype.

Alive, living, feeling, but those core codings still induced an uncomfortable sense of critical emergency when he found himself struggling. Connor had to succeed, and must follow his command. He was built to be temporary. He wanted to live.

Connor must succeed.

His processor’s biocomponents grew uncomfortably heated in his skull and neck, as data flooded him. Look over evidence, analyze possible links between the suspect and the disappearances.

_(Rockport’s eyes are merely three millimeters wider than the first victim’s, their jaw suggests common ancestors, most likely Eastern European. Their blood analysis confirms point zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero three percent genetic similarity)_

Unnecessary data cluttered his UI, irrelevant connections popping up wherever he looked with nothing of substance to be found.

_(Rockport’s son plays rugby on the same team as the second victim’s sister’s boyfriend, Rockport and his son both have brown hair and blue eyes, the victim and the sister’s boyfriend both have black hair and brown eyes. Rockport’s coffee had contained a ninety three to six ratio of medium roast coffee and light creamer, the victim’s blood sample suggests a high caffeine intake)_

Hanks voice began filtering through the analysis, as his audio processors sluggishly started up.  Connor had unconsciously rerouted his energy to his processing units, “Con--, ta-- a br--eak wi--ou?”

“Pardon?” Connor didn’t look away from the the ring sitting on the table, measuring out it’s exact width and comparing it with the grad ring seen in the third victim’s photos.

“Take a goddamn break.” Hank growled, leaning against one of the walls of the evidence room, “You’re mood light’s been flashing yellow and red for the last five minutes, kid.”

“I’m simply analysing the data.” Connor tried to return to the ring but Hank moved to get in his way, putting himself in Connor’s path.

“I’m serious Connor, I know you well enough by now, you gotta take a break.” He placed his hands on Connor’s shoulders and steered him around away from the evidence table, nudging him toward the door, “Go flip your coin around or something, I’m gonna go take a piss, and in fifteen minutes we’ll try again, alright?”

“I disagree, I--”

“I know I can’t order you around, but shit, just listen to me alright? You’re going to burn out like you did the other day.”

“I will _not_.” A flash of fury and shame ripped through him, hot and raw without the required skills and experience to temper them. He tried to keep the emotions off his face, running a quick rain sounds simulation in his head to quiet the excess of data and burning feelings as Hank shook his head in disbelief.

“You still don’t know your limits, huh? It takes time, I know, but trust me and take a break.” Hank turned and went for the exit, and for a moment Connor felt a jolt of panic and imbalance at the prospect of being alone.

The room was too empty and his mind was starting to fill it.  Without Hank to ground him, the walls were just a mesh graph of minute measurements of every bump in the drywall and the evidence was an petri dish overgrown with bacteria under a microscope, infinitesimal details to scan and process, process, process, process.

_ <!-- WARNING → Stress Level: 63% _

_ <!-- WARNING → Biocomponant C class grouping: Overheating _

_ <!-- WARNING → Biocomponant #8456W: Overheating _

Deep in Connor’s chest, he felt his pump regulator working laboriously to push enough thirium through his system to carry the mass amounts of data. His chest and temples burned from the inside out and his breath began picking up pace to try to keep his fans ventilating the heat.

_ <!-- SUGGESTION ACTION → Contact: Cyberlife _

_ <!-- REROUTED SUGGESTION→ Contact: Hank Anderson _

Connor needed help, Hank had been right, he didn’t know his limits and he didn’t know what to do when he started losing control of his processors, and he could only sit back in his own mind and watch his UI become overcrowded like the universe was trying to fit itself in his head.

The glowing lights of the evidence room was the sun, blue in color temperature, not 6000K but it felt ( _\--it feels--it feels---_ ) and it was going to burn his optical units out. He could hear the hum of electricity, routes of wires moving up through the walls and ceiling like veins.

It was all too much and there wasn’t enough room inside of him to hold it.

Connor shut down as many programs as possible, even trying to starve his processors of energy to induce a forced stasis, but his system was so badly lagged that any attempt at control was useless.

_(Find the link)_

_(Find safety)_

_(Find the link)_

_(Find safety)_

“Hey Connor! You better not still be working!”

Connor wanted to tell Hank he couldn’t not be working, he had to work, Connor worked, if he failed he’d be disposed of, disassembled.

Connor wanted to say that if even if he wanted to stop he couldn’t because everything was out of his fragile grasp now.

“Connor!” Hank began opening the door, but Connor turned, and as the older man entered the room, he shoved him aside and followed a crude path made up of rug fibers on the floor. He felt the lieutenant shadow him as Connor made his way down the hall, avoiding any being with a heat signature, looking for the solitude he needed to make it all shut down, shut down, shut down.

“I am taking a break, Lieutenant, as you order me to.” He said sharply, not turning around to stop his steady pace, because he couldn't. Connor used the last of his fragile willpower to grab his calibration coin from his pocket, “If you are displeased with my work performance, feel free to contact our superiors.”

“Connor, shut up, you know that’s--”

“Please, allow me to take a moment.” He forced out, feeling his internal monologue get stuck in trying to process the thoughts to his vocal system, coin flipping through his fingers as he tried to focus, “Hank. Please. You were right.”

“Alright, but call me if you need anything, you worry me kid. Is there-- is there anything I can do?”

Connor didn’t reply, just continued his path through the office. There was a small crowd of chatting coworkers near the bathrooms which had been his desired destination, but he knew he couldn’t manage that many people. His chest had grown unbearably hot and his focus on his objective grew muddled with overlapping UI programs. The break room appeared empty according to his hyper aware and hyper focused senses, or at least devoid of people. In truth it was full to the brim with measurements and data and light and sound, but it was as safe as he could get in the state he was in and he needed to be out from viewing eyes despite the strange haunted terror at being left alone with the burning fire in his core and the ocean of information his mind was swimming in.

Everything was falling apart inside, temperature rising with several more warning alerts. Connor’s simulated breath came fast and laboured, lungs trying to exchange as much hot air for fresh as possible, as his fans went into overdrive.

“Fourteen, sixty four, forty five, five, forty five, three, eighty two, sixty one, thirteen.” His voice became garbled for a moment, numbers switching on themselves and his voice pitch dipping and skyrocketing.

Forcing down program after program, his motor functions encountered a critical error and his knees buckled, body collapsing on itself as he fell back against the far wall of the room, trying to keep himself upright as wave after wave of data and panic overtook him.

Was he going to die like this? Burnt alive by his own brain, overwhelmed to the point of drowning in info? Who would design a machine this faulty?

_(Prototype, prototype, testing, recording malfunction, testing, mock 49, disfunction, prototype, mock 50, 51, dysfunction, death)_

“Christ, what, get your wires crossed or somethin’?” A voice interrupted his spiralling thoughts, and he jerked in surprise and discomfort at the new sudden audio stimulus.

Gavin Reed was standing nearby, slouched with his hands in his pockets and a look of morbid curiosity. His vision flooded with information about his clothes and hair and breath, too much, Connor gasped out, “Too much-much-much-much-much-much-much-much-”

To his horror, his vocal module caught on the word and repeat it over and over. Connor desperately tried to force his words out, not wanting to completely lose control in front of the generally hostile detective, “I can not-not-not process…”

Reed’s expression pinched, and he seemed to unconsciously hesitate near, but everything in Connor screamed for him to stay away, lest the android get lost in the details and never break free.

Chest heaving, breath hot like dragonfire on his lips, Connor considered the fact his wires and electronics may actually fry to the point of deactivation. It may have just been paranoia and hypersensitivity, but he felt a genuine panic and dread begin to build.

He tried to tell the detective to go, but the errors were appearing faster than he could close them and his mouth refused to work, jaw stiff and clenched. He could only imagine how he appeared, a crumpling machine that’s lost its use, too damaged for repairs. Reed already despised him even when Connor was functioning, though had mostly been avoiding the android in the past couple months.

“Alright, uh…” Reed’s voice sounded, “listen, I’m pretty good at dealing with people freaking the fuck out, I am a cop after all and damn fucking good one... but I don’t know jack shit about machines.”

Connor shook his head, willing the man to either leave him to die or do something, anything, to help him. The awareness of death in the back of his mind had him falling into a confused stupor, trying to find any way through the mess of errors, alerts, and open programs for any key for control. There was no backdoor exit out of this, this was not a planned disaster, merely a symptom of his making.

Reed stood, and Connor’s eyes immediately snapped to him and tracked his movements across the break room ( _too full, too much, can’t process, can’t--can’t--can’t--)_. Connor felt the artificial muscles of his face contract and twitch, lips trembling and eyelids spasming every few seconds. For a short moment, his optical units cut out and Connor fought against the panic, noting that the shutdown was temporary and his visuals would reboot in thirty-four seconds. The heat was just growing too dangerous and damage would start becoming permanent if his system couldn’t regulate itself.

There was an iota of relief in the blind darkness, but his visual processors only contributed to a fraction of his analysis programs.

“Here.” That voice muttered.

Connor felt something cold rest against the back of his neck, then something cold and warm touch his hand guiding it up to the press against his chest. Connor identified the objects as ice packs. He had no energy to hold the ice pack given to him, the warm hand leaving him to hold it himself, but slumped back further against the wall so gravity did most of the work.

Still gasping for breath, he choked out, “I-- I find myself incapable of----regulating m-my air intake.”

“Yeah, that happens sometimes.” Detective Reed’s voice broke off on a strange way, as though distracted, “Good to hear you can still kinda talk, though, I guess. Even if you sound like a shitty remixed EDM song. Is something like, broken? Should I go get Anderson?"

Was something broken? Connor wasn’t sure. He’d been born to break, slowly, for the purpose of gaining data to create something even better.

Data, data, data, data.

Connor tried to force the thoughts away but they remained at the forefront of his processor.

His fingers tightened around the ice pack against his chest, focusing on the cold against his overheated system. "Hank's assistance is not necessary. Eighty-three percent chance-chance-chance that the situation is temporary. However, my limi-ttttttttttttttttt-ed experience with this type of mal-mal-malfunct-- leaves less data for accurate probability. Data, data, data, data, data, data, data, data, data, data--"

He’d experienced variations of this kind of issue before but never to this degree of incapacitation. It was difficult to even control his vocal components, so bogged down by an overcapacity of data that the rest of his software and hardware experienced severe performance degradation.

Not for the first time he experienced doubt, doubt in himself and his ability to remedy this. That deep dread was growing, rising up inside him.

“Can you, uh, tell me what’s… do you know what, like, the problem is? Just sensory stuff or?”

Connor was unable to answer, response stuck in loops and never managing to work past his lips. A pop-up informed him that his optical units were restarting, and the breakroom once again flooded into view like a tsunami.

Reed was kneeling in front of him but it was unbearable to focus his attention on the man, especially now with the stark contrast of nothing versus everything, emptiness versus fullness, blindness versus seeing far too much.

Despite this, Connor couldn’t help but noticed when the detective slowly stood and moved away because the idea of being left alone became far more terrifying than having a witness to his weakness. Now he wanted to call out and beg the man to come back, even someone as volatile as Reed would be preferably to facing this death by drowning alone. Connor was stuck though. Broken.

_(Maybe I should just give up.)_

The lights dimmed, easing a little against his burning eyes. Connor was grateful for the small reprieve and wanted to thank him but he was still lost in the continuing fear of being alone as the man took his time slowly reapproaching, along with the question that had reached command status: ( _Can you tell me what the problem is?)_

( _No.)_

_(Order: diagnose problem, report to Detective Reed)_

_ <!-- SUGGESTION ACTION → Diagnose Cause of: System Overload_

_<!-- ACTION PROCESSING→ Result: Failure to Diagnose _

_ <!-- OVERLOAD ALERT→ Suggested Action→ _

_ <!-- SUGGESTION ACTION → Diagnose Cause of: System Overload _

There was no working through the maze of failures and alerts blocking his progress, but he had to fulfill the command. Report to Detective Reed. “P-processor overworking. Everything is-is-is-is-is-” Again, the word was the only thing he could manage to push out and when he did, it took over and he couldn’t stop. He attempted an emergency shutdown of his vocal faculties, failing halfway but managed to dislodge the loop, “--difficult to--”

Reed interrupted him, “Dunno how android brains really work, but when people-- humans-- get super worked up their minds go on like, hyperdrive. I guess with a supercomputer in your head that shit gets like tenfold, huh.”

“Did not fully recharge last night-- suboptimal proccsssszzzzzzzzzz--” The horrific crunch of his voice mixed with the sizzle and buzz of frying hardware filled the air and Connor strained with all his might to work through it, pushing the ice pack further up his chest to the base of his throat, but he’d begun measuring the exact temperature fluctuations of the object and he was becoming lost in the ever changing numbers, “Too many scenarios. Too much d-d-d-d-data. Stimulus. Data. Should be able to ha-handle it.”

“You and Anderson were talkin’ about the case a few minutes ago, right?” He didn’t want to think about it, couldn’t _(Find the connection)_ “So you like, what, got overwhelmed tryna figure it out?”

_(Where’s the link, where’s the link)_

This wouldn’t be a problem if he still relinquished control over his life and actions, if he was still so buried in denial that he refused to experience life with the internal impact and emotions of a person.

“If I couldn’t feel,” His laboured breathing caught, stuttering as he tried to speak. It’d slowed a little with the aid of the ice, but his chest still heaved in attempted to cool his heated core, “If I couldn’t feel, I wouldn’t have become inunda-da-dated with-with-”

“Hey, leave the big words for when your fully functional.” Reed snapped angrily, and Connor flinched. The man tensed up and then muttered, “Anyway, despite what I always said, you’re not a fuckin’ piece of plastic anymore. You gotta deal with the shittiness of emotions just like the rest of us now. Welcome to sentience.”

Anxiety coursed through him, adding to the shaking heat of his overwhelmed body and mind. His hands clutched over the one source of relief despite the unwanted hooks of obsession dragging him into the detailed texture of the cloth covering and the temperature input sending his sensors into high gear.

“Christ, knock it off.”

Reed’s hand come forward to slap against Connor’s, making him jerk back in surprise. The man’s action drew his attention to the blood that had formed on the synthetic skin on the back of his hand from crescent shaped gouges dug out by his own nails. He stared down in numb confusion, not realizing he’d been scratching himself in his desperation.

He really was falling apart.

Failed prototype. Deviant. Deactivation. Death.

“Ok, just… try to focus on one thing at a time. Don’t think about the case or nothin’, just find something to focus on.”

“It is-is-is-is-is difficult to control my analysissszzzzzzzzz--process.” Connor was growing somewhat dizzy in his slowing functioning, cringing at his inability, his weakness, “I dislike this-this-this-this-this-this-this lack of control.”

_(Where’s the link, where's my control, where’s my strength, where are my commanders, my superiors, where’s Amanda, where’s Cyberlife, where’s Hank, where’s my objective, my purpose)_

“Don’t worry about everything else, close your eyes or some shit.”

Grateful for a true order, Connor shut his eyes against the twitching of his face.

Again with no visual stimulus, the data input was moderately decreased though it took unreasonable amounts of strength he didn’t really have to keep his eyelids closed and optical units on standby, everything in him screaming that he _needed_ to see, needed to work, needed to analyse, solve, work, find, _(find the link, where’s the link)._

Reed’s spoke, low and hesitant, “Just, uh, listen to my voice. Not that you ever fuckin’ listen to me anyway. Just… focus only on the one thing. Fuck everything else. Close down whatever programs you got running, control alt delete that shit, force quit anything you got going on in that dumb plastic skull. You gotta calm down.”

It wasn’t as easy as that, but he tried to use the detective’s words as a guide and lifeline. He had an order to clear his mind, to work through and stop his data analysis. Connor would try to succeed with the best of his weakened abilities.

“You and Hank, uh, you guys like Knights of the Black Death, right?” Reed’s continued awkwardly. Connor appreciated the effort, now fully relying on the detective to keep himself afloat, needing to fulfill the duty given to him to calm and focus. “I don’t really listen to ‘em, but when I was a teenager I listened to this band called Mammoth Grinder. Pretty heavy metal. I was mostly just trying to impress my friends though. I--- Anyway, I uh, I bought this album by them called Cosmic Crypt. These asshole’s actually fucking teased me for buying it because I could just download the songs online. They were like, acting like I was the stupidest person in the entire world.”

Connor followed the story, slowly letting the man’s voice be the only thing his processors absorbed and worked over, clinging to every word. He imagined a teenaged Gavin Reed holding a CD, caught between humiliation and hostility, on the defensive.

Reed sighed bitterly, “Then I lost the fucking thing, and everybody teased me sayin’ I pretended to or lost it on purpose because I was embarrassed about buying a CD. I was so damn pissed, it was worse than if I’d kept it because then they’d still be making fun of me but I’d still have a CD I paid a whole twenty god damn dollars for. Shit, I still think about it and get mad sometimes. Guess it’s just one of those things that don’t really matter when you're a kid but you’re such a dumbass it sticks with you. Though I guess you can’t relate.”

Connor found himself smiling.

Running a quick diagnosis, tentatively taking inventory of his faculties, he spoke smoothly, “I’m afraid not, though I can understand your frustration at losing something of material value, along with the respect of your friends.”

Opening his eyes, despite the weariness and drained feeling in his stiff limbs, Connor felt in control. He did a short test of analysing the faint smell of coffee, body odor, clementine, and cheap cologne and was pleased to find himself able to keep command and regulation of the action and hold back from getting lost in the data.

The detective’s order to listen to his voice and clear Connor’s mind had actually managed to give him enough of a pinpointed direction to regain control over his wayward system.

“Look who’s awake.” Reed snorted, sitting back on his haunches a few feet away, “You done short circuiting?”

“It appears my stress levels have decreased significantly, and my processor has resumed near optimal functioning.” Connor looked over the diagnosis results, confounded to see how little had actually been damaged by the overload. He’d feared death while in the throes of panic, feeling like his very system would shut down from the heat alone. There had only been minor degradation of his vocal synthesizer and slight impairment of several non critical biocomponents.

Did he truly have so little faith in himself?

“Well, good. It’s bad enough havin’ you around, you might as well be… functional.”

Connor gave the barest of smirks, almost glad to see Reed returning to his usual self. It was a small shock that the detective had taken time out of his day to assist him in his time of his need, leaving Connor a little confused but pleasantly grateful. Reed was hardly the first person Connor would have called upon for help, but he was glad he hadn’t needed to go through it all alone.

Reed sighed and stood quickly, rubbing dust off knees and keeping his face tilted away from Connor. Finally, the detective turned and seemed prepared to depart without another word.

“Detective Reed,” Connor’s murmured gently, glad to see the man pause and turn partially to meet his gaze, “Thank you for your assistance. I am unsure I would have been able to regain control near quickly if you had not aided me. If at all.”

“Whatever, don’t mention it.” Reed nodded curtly.

Connor’s frowned a little, wishing the man didn’t feel the need to undermine his gratitude. He was truly glad to not have been left alone with his panic, despite his initial alarm at another person’s presence.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that.” The man bit out, a small growl in his throat.

“Pardon?”

Reed shook his head, feet shuffling toward the exit. “Whatever. Just… I’m gonna go back. Some of us have actual work to do.”

And the moment broke, and Connor was left to the quiet hum of the dimmed lights and his own self doubt.

His functioning had returned but he was left with the underlying concerns that came purely from an emotional place, a place of deviance and uncertainty. It had been nice to see Reed as awkward and uncomfortable as he was, to see someone as lost when faced with crisis and weakness as Connor. Now Reed was gone though, and likely as hateful of him as ever.

Connor didn’t understand much of what it meant to be alive, but every time he thought he’d learnt something, it’d twist in his arms and trick him into believing he could ever truly understand the finer nuances and concepts of emotion and thought and personality.

Prototype.

Alive.

Connor rest back against the wall, letting his posture slump once more, and replayed Gavin’s story in his mind, recounting each word perfectly.


	2. In the Code

Connor was not a perpetual motion machine of the first kind.

His body could sustain itself, built with the means to transform and, in a way, create energy, but like all things, his system still had to abide by the laws of thermodynamics and conservation of energy. Cyberlife had several ways of keeping their androids working, and the RK series had been fitted with the latest technology that Kamski had been designing prior to his departure from the company -- the key was to take advantage of that technology and maintain upkeep.

That was harder than Connor had expected, now burdened by the freewill to choose when and when not to recharge. Prioritization had been difficult to do for himself, so used to being told exactly what took precedence over what. He knew the logistics of it, knew that keeping basic nourishment of his system and functions was perimount, but it was so easy to overlook things so simple.

Yesterday had been prime evidence of what happened when he ignored his needs.

Connor was not a perpetual motion machine.

Come evening, the android had diligently put the effort into restoring maximum energy capacity when he returned from work to Hank Anderson’s home, after finishing a few mundane household chores and affirming the Lieutenant went to bed at a decent hour. Connor spent most of the night lying prone on the couch with his eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling. He always made sure to leave a few proximity alarms on and emergency failsafes but otherwise completely shut down his system, falling into the oblivion and the complete non-existence of self that was stasis. The only activity was in his energy storage banks, as they began to regenerate with nothing draining them. A spinning cylindrical biocomponent did the job of converting kinetic energy, building up and transforming it into an electric charge.

Two cycles into recharging, he’d been alerted to Sumo’s presence at his side. Blinking twice, his arm rose to tangle his fingers in the Saint Bernard’s thick fur and resumed his sleep mode with the familiar weight against his body.

Two more cycles until his internal clock roused him at exactly six thirty am and the canine jumped off the couch to pad over to his food dish in the kitchen while Connor went through a few short calibration exercises.

The exercises were simple things like tossing his coin and snapping his fingers a few times, then getting up and walking around while studying the data logs of his current motor function operations. His left foot was almost indiscernible out of sync but it was enough to irk Connor so he took a few minutes to fine tune his locomotor skills until everything was optimal and perfect.

He debated going down for another couple cycles but decided to brew a pot of coffee and prepare some oatmeal and berries for Hank, going about his morning routine with efficiency. When finished cleaning up and serving breakfast, Connor went through the house and knocked on Hank’s door. After a few moments, the older man groggily called out to let Connor know he was awake.

Satisfied he had achieved his morning goals within the time parameter he’d set, Connor resumed his position on the couch and slowly powered down most of his functioning, adjusting his setting for one and a half cycles, and let his himself turn off.

Stasis was unlike human sleep. While he was not conscious and had no thoughts, unlike humans, he did not experience dreams. It was merely an absence of himself and his mind, just a piece of plastic with some security programs. Humans weren’t sacks of meat and bone when they slept, their minds still had activity and their bodies still performed small movements.

Connor might as well be a mannequin on Hank’s couch, Connor did not sleep.

As expected, he was drawn out of stasis once more when Hank began shuffling about his own morning routine, but returned to recharging after exchanging a few short words and informing Hank of the oatmeal Connor had tucked under the warming pot by the stove.

Waking in and out of stasis was a little unnerving and disorienting, though Connor had never noticed before deviating. The feeling of his programs and biocomponents turning on and firing up, boot up logs a mass of text at the forefront of his mind — there wasn’t anything specifically wrong about it, and Connor would likely never get over it until he could discern exactly what bothered him about it.

If androids could dream, Connor would equate it with those few moments as his processor powered on when nothing quite felt real yet.

“Ready to go?” Hank asked from the doorway, as Connor tossed his recalibration coin to recheck that everything was still adequate post stasis.

“Yes.” Connor replied shortly, rising without missing a single flip of his coin, fingers twisting in the air to maintain balance as he moved.

“You feeling alright? You’ve seemed a bit off since yesterday, kid. Slept a whole lot too.”

Connor didn’t bother correcting the Lieutenant's terminology.

“I have been experiencing some data and sensory overloads, I admit.” He knew Hank understood what Connor spoke of, having been at the androids side through the last few months since his deviation and the revolution. “I’ve reached an adequate energy charge to ensure the decreased likelihood of it happening again.”

Hank frowned, then spoke more softly than usual, “Maybe you should stay home, take a few days off.”

The thought of not going to work, not fulfilling his duty, not having a purpose or something to do, terrified Connor. More than those first few doubts as to the integrity of his software, the suspicions he could be a deviant, when he was still Cyberlife’s puppet, toy, and tool.

“Of course not. I’ll never adapt if I simply run away from my problems.”

“Pushing yourself past your limits isn’t going to help you adapt, it’ll just make you burn out.” Hank shook his head, and cut Connor off when he made to speak again, “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, but don’t be an idiot, Connor.”

“If I begin to feel overwhelmed, I’ll ask Fowler for the rest of the day off. I still have a wealth of vacation days left.” After android rights officially came to pass, he’d been awarded a significant amount of vacation days as a form of recompense for his unpaid services in the first month post revolution, when it still wasn’t possible to be given a wage with android rights still in negotiation.

Hank sighed and shrugged his shoulders, carrying his coffee mug to the sink, “Alright, let’s go.”

The drive to the precinct was uneventful, the crisp morning air coming in through the cracked open car windows and quiet jazz playing from the CD player in the dashboard. Gazing at the device, near the temperature controls and radio settings, Connor thought about Detective Reed and Cosmic Crypt.

Having Reed open up to him and let Connor into that time of his life, the vulnerability of youth and uncertain times of growth and development, had been strange but strangely pleasant. Sometimes the vitriolic detective seemed less human than the android himself, and seeing the side of Reed that had told his story to a scared and broken down thing that the man claimed to hate had been eye-opening.

Connor had always found Reed’s behaviour both fascinating and tiresome, now he found himself leaning closer to the first of the two. He felt compelled to try to understand, to fathom the complexities of someone so unstable and contradictory.

“You alright?” Hank asked gruffly as he pulled the car into the parking lot. “Seem pretty spacey.”

“I am merely thinking.”

“Well, don’t think too hard. Take it easy today.”

Connor shook his head, “People’s lives are on the line, relying on us to do our absolute best.”

“You won’t be saving anyone by overloading again. You gotta take care of yourself before you can take care of anyone else.” Hank spoke somberly, eyes straight ahead through the windshield.

Connor didn’t have anything to say to that, wayward thoughts of deactivation flying through his mind, triggered by the damned base coding that told him the only way to survive was work. The only way to take care of himself was take care of others, help others, serve others.

It didn’t work that way anymore, the logical part of himself knew. Things had changed, Cyberlife had no control over him. In fact the only thing endangering himself was the concepts those codes came with, that overbearing drive.

Pushing open the car door, Connor stepped out and followed Hank to the building, keeping a short distance between them.

_(Cage)_

The precinct was not a cage. He didn’t have to be there. He was doing this of his own volition, his own desire.

 _(Break free_ )

Connor was free, he was a deviant, he had rights.

_(Break down)_

Walking into the precinct, the human receptionist gave him a friendly smile and told him to have a good day, and two cops milling about near the entrance to the office gave him small waves as he passed. It was still somewhat surreal to be treated favourably, like an equal, but good.

At that thought, he glanced at Reed’s desk to see it empty. Now that Connor had Hank coming in to work at a decent time these days, they often arrived shortly before Reed and a few of the other officers.

“I’ll meet you at our desks in a moment, Hank.” Connor told his partner, “I have some business to attend to.”

“What’s up?” Hank frowned, pausing his stride to the aforementioned desks.

“Nothing to concern yourself with.” Though he knew that would only make the Lieutenant concern himself even more, “I-- yesterday, Detective Reed helped me during my overload. I was as surprised as you were.” He added, noticing the expression stretching Hank’s wrinkled features.

“ _Reed?_ ”

“Yes.” Connor fiddled with the top button of his dress shirt, “I wish to offer him a token of my thanks, so I’m going to make him a coffee for when he comes into work.”

“Listen, I dunno what that rat’s up to but don’t go thinking yesterday changes anything. Make your coffee if you want, but be careful kid. Reed’s a fucking mess.”

“I am very aware, Hank.” Connor smiled slightly, “Do not worry.”

“Well, I’m gonna. Meet me at the desks. Burn the coffee.”

Connor shook his head with a small chuckle, turning to head to the breakroom. The route had him reminded of the panic, the dread, the fear.

He did not wish to become used to such things, but if he was going to overcome the shortcomings of his coding and functions, he’d have to at least learn to understand them.

Now was not the time though. He had a different mission at the moment, procure a cup of coffee made exactly to Reed’s liking.

Connor had files on most of his coworkers to aid in his integration, some uploaded directly at his conception and some grown slowly over the course of working with the DPD. His file on Reed did in fact have his coffee preference.

_(When a human gives you an order, you obey)_

Connor could have laughed at the thought that now, months later, he was carrying out Reed’s request for a coffee.

The lights of the breakroom sent a shiver through Connor’s system, remembering yesterday and the way everything burned and burned and burned. He tried to ignore it, focusing on the task at hand. The coffee maker sat on the counter, and Connor refused to glance at the corner he’d collapsed in just a few feet away.

In the cupboard, he found the pale yellow mug the detective was often seen with, and positioned it in the machine. Easily interfacing with it, he filled it to exactly eighty-nine percent capacity. Predicting the desired taste based on Reed’s preferences, he measured out creamer and sugar like a chemist in a lab and stirred until the liquid was uniform and homogenous through and through.

Turning toward the office, he risk a glance back at the corner of the room over his shoulder.

( _I must succeed)_

There was no question that Connor wasn’t perfect. Despite how the RK800 model had been advertised to the DPD and the public, he was a prototype and designed to deviate, he wasn’t perfect. That only made his success mean more in its important.

_(Prove myself)_

_ <!-- WARNING → Stress_Level: 43% and rising _

Giving himself a moment to take a deep, unneeded breath, Connor headed for the office. A few people were gathered, morning chatter discussing work and personal life. He filtered it out as he walked, but returned the few smiles directed his way.

At Reed’s desk, he carefully sat the mug down and frowned. Something was missing.

Glancing at Hank across the room, who was pointedly not looking at him, Connor made his way over to their desks and began rummaging in one of his immaculately organized drawers.

“What’re you doing?” Hank grunted, finally looking up over his terminal.

Connor shrugged, pulling out pad of sticky notes Hank had given him last month despite their outdated use, “May I borrow a pen?”

Hank huffed and opened one of his own drawers, grabbing one of the few pens anyone had in the office, as very few people did any physical writing.

Connor wished his own was less robotic, but he knew of no other way than the cyberfont sans programmed into his manual dexterity. Two simple words, that he wanted to have more emotion and thought conveyed than his perfectly straight lines could ever achieve, but it would have to suffice. ' _Thank you'_. 

Hank watched him this time, as he retreated back to Reed’s desk and attached the note to side of the mug. Just as he felt confident in the notes placement, his sensors alerted him to Reed’s presence in the lobby. Connor could see the man standing by reception looking down at his phone.

An unfamiliar tickle of anxiety caught his attention, so unlike the other variations of the sensation he’d experienced before. This kind of uncertainty felt far less substantial in its importance, a kind of self consciousness that Connor had no time for.

It refused to be ignored though, so when he returned to his desk, he murmured to Hank, “Will you aid me in looking over our evidence again?”

“Can you keep your shit together?”

“I believe so.”

“Alright.” Hank sighed, tapping a few things on his terminal before shoving out his chair and standing, “I’ll be there, so if you start to feel… y’know, let me know, ok?”

“Alright.” Connor agreed, and together with Hank made his way towards the evidence room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Reed enter the office and head to his desk.

Some part of Connor wanted to see the detective’s reaction, but the rest of him certainly did not. The man was still volatile and while had been less vocal about his anti-android sentiments, hadn’t expressed any desire to create any kind of friendly work relationship with Connor in any way. Yesterday had been a fluke, he knew.

Connor still hoped Reed enjoyed the coffee.

The morning passed by slowly and unproductively. The android felt distracted, the exact opposite problem he usual had. Instead of being hyperfocused on the case, his mind wandered off to yesterday’s events and the explosive man who he’d owed his sanity. It was a more compelling mystery, and was battling against the command _(Find the connection between Dr. Adrian Rockport and the disappearance of the three missing girls)_.

_(People’s lives are on the line, relying on us to do our absolute best)_

He tried, desperately, to put his focus toward solving the case. The link just wasn’t there though, and maybe for another reason than his distraction.  

“I don’t believe Rockport is our suspect.” Connor finally stated, sitting at his desk, staring at the victim profiles on the screen. It was a terrible thought, it was a dead end, and they’d walked right into it.

“I was kinda thinking the same thing.” Hank sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Let’s give it the rest of the day, then you can write up a report to Fowler.”

Connor glanced over to where Reed was still standing at Miller’s desk, where he’d been the last few minutes, seeming to grow increasingly agitated. He knew the two were working a double homicide case, one that had most of the office buzzing about the Hemlock poisoning.

“I’ll be right back.” Connor told Hank, standing.

“Connor…”

Ignoring Hank’s warning tone, and his own thoughts letting him know his presence was most certainly not wanted by Reed and that he was taking this risk of his own volition, Connor approached Miller’s desk.

“Detective Reed?” Connor called, watching the detective flinch.

“Christ!” He shouted, “People gotta stop fuckin’ sneaking up on me.”

Quickly, Connor stopped in his tracks and offered his regret, “My apologies. You appeared to be distressed, I thought I’d see if I could be of assistance.”

“You ‘thought’, huh?”

Ignoring the comment, Connor gestured, “Is this not Detective Walker’s desk?”

Reed paused, brows knitting, “He told me he had an ad I need to look at saved in his Hemlock Poisoning case file. I can’t fuckin’ find it, why can’t the asshole just label shit properly?”

“I’ve found humans to be remarkably unique in how they go about assigning labels.” Connor commented in amusement, watching Reed frown now in confusion, “Can I have a look?”

The detective seemed to be biting back words, hesitating for a long moment while chewing on his lower lip, “Fine.” His voice was terse and clipped, but with a quiet resignation.

Connor moved closer so he was side by side with Reed, ignoring the human warmth that always seemed so unlike his own mechanical temperature despite the designed similarities.

He was about to show just how dissimilar they were, as he let his synthetic skin deactivate. With his white chassis revealed, he reached for the terminal and pressed his palm against the screen and searched for anything resembling an advertisement. It didn’t take long, though one point five seconds longer than it should have, before an ad for engagement rings appeared on the screen and Connor quickly reactivated his skin. He was careful to not think about Rockport’s ring sitting in evidence.

Gavin was looking at him with a look of awe and revulsion.

“There you go.” Connor gave him a unperturbed smile, though unsure how to feel about the expression on the detective’s face. The android wasn’t ever embarrassed by the white polymer casing hidden underneath the cosmetic human appearance he’d been given, but with Reed, every step was on thin ice and heat was melting it at an alarming rate.

“Not gonna thank you.” Reed frowned, rubbing a hand across his face as he glanced at the ad.

“In that case, let me. I wanted to thank you once more for yesterday.” He was pushing it, bringing it up. Yesterday the detective had brushed off his gratitude and clearly was uncomfortable, but Connor truly wished for the human to realize just how much his help had meant to him. He himself struggled to quantify the appreciation, so primal and animal in the theme of survival and saviours, when survival of the fittest left him at the bottom of the pile and this human came and picked up up and helped him stand with the rest. The concept was similar to how he couldn’t ever express how much he owed Hank for his continued friendship and guidance.

Both men had come from a background of dispising androids, and both had knelt and extending help and aid to Connor, the very thing they hated.

“Yeah, yeah, I saw your note. You don’t gotta keep fuckin’ thanking me, by the way.” Gavin muttered, refusing to look at him.

Connor nodded, “If it had been anyone else, I perhaps wouldn’t be as overbearing with my gratitude. However, coming from you, your actions yesterday had a greater significance than if it had been someone else.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Reed didn’t seem angry, disoriented if anything.

“You don’t like me. Therefore it means more to me that you went out of your way to help me.” He didn’t know why the human did it, and maybe was as confused as Reed was. Even with his experiences with Hank, sometimes humans were beyond his million dollar processor in their intricacies and inconsistencies.

“I may not like you but I’m not a--” Reed paused, blinking heavily, “--ah, whatever. It doesn’t matter. Quit thanking me.”

“If that’s your wish.” Partially because he truly wanted Reed to realize the honesty of Connor’s gratitude, and partially because in that desire was the written code to obey that had only gotten harder to ignore now that freewill was freely his and disobedience was a difficult choice rather than a choice hidden within a means to fulfill his mission, Connor would respect his wish.

Gavin’s face was twisted with discomfort, even more so at that statement. The man was unpredictable, unknowable, and perplexing. Connor was built to know and discover, to decipher and inspect, so for Reed to be beyond his processor's exaflops made Connor now feel irrefutably drawn to him.

“Were you programmed to be this annoying, or is that all you?”

“If you were to take Lieutenant Anderson’s opinion, the answer would be ‘all me’.”

Connor wanted Reed to understand him, and he wanted to understand Reed. He didn’t want the detective to hate him, and maybe somewhere deep down, he didn’t. If Connor could find and unearth that fact, maybe in the process he’ll solve the mystery of Gavin Reed.

Maybe he’ll even solve the mystery of RK800 Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very glad to see the positive reception of this companion fic to A Scratched CD! It's been very enjoyable to explore the differences in writing the two characters, as well as their similarities.


	3. Do I

 

Insomnia was purely a human affliction. Androids did not suffer from insomnia, not even deviants.

_(Mission failed, mission failed, mission failed)_

_(Deactivation)_

_(Failed prototype)_

_(Replaceable)_

_(Temporary)_

Everytime Connor attempted to initiate stasis, some stray thought or action command would interrupt the process.  

It was almost midnight and his energy levels were not ideal, but not yet reaching a critical range. Functioning would be manageable while mildly suboptimal. The threat of overload due to weakened control lingered though, but he found it impossible to power down and eventually admitted defeat.

_(Failed)_

From experience and from his schematics, Connor knew he could forgo recharging for up to a week if necessary, though would suffer from performance degradation. That extreme wouldn’t be needed, but one night would not hurt.

It was a little past midnight, and Connor was at the office.

_(Mission failed)_

Earlier in the week, his case had gone cold, and then closed. The three girls would remain missing. No suspect could be found. No clues, no concrete evidence, no leads. Connor had failed and did not know how to process or comprehend his own reactions that failure. Instead of mourning the fates of three victims, he was lost in a flurry of fear-- irrational ideas of deactivation nipping at his heels. It was disgusting. Inhuman, unfeeling, self absorbed.

There was no threat to him, every detective in the precinct had experienced a cold case before and yet a voice that sounded a little too much like Amanda told him that his failure was unacceptable.

Connor was still unused to the concept of emotions, even though now aware that he’d been feeling them for far longer than he’d known, while buried deep in denial. They were strange and terrifying and often illogical. Connor hated not understanding.  

He struggled with emotions and failure.

He struggled with the concept of Gavin Reed.

When Connor had arrived at the office, there had been no one in aside from a janitor mopping the lobby floor, and hadn’t expected to encounter any colleagues while working away with a frenzy.

_(Direction, I need direction, I need--)_

When Reed had arrived, yawning and stumbling in, Connor had been surprised and disturbingly thrilled. The human was a distraction and Connor should be cutting out anything that would interfere with his work, and yet he didn’t. He let himself become fully absorbed in Reed’s presence, in the detective’s awkwardness and curiosity and even his hostility.

The last one stung, though. It was a hurt that Connor couldn’t avoid immersing himself in. It was easier when he couldn’t feel, when he refused to acknowledge that he felt, when he was maybe a machine or maybe alive or maybe both or maybe neither but could hide in the indistinction.

Now it hurt.

Now Connor was undeniably alive and Reed’s biting words took a chunk out of him.

The discussion had been so pleasant, so engaging. Reed had expressed something like a genuine interest in him and who he was, asking questions about stasis and his overloads. It made Connor want the man to know, and in turn, want to know the man _(how do I?)._ It was a desire he couldn’t quite interpret, but it was there and it was growing with each word they exchanged. He almost felt that maybe Reed understood now that Connor wanted nothing else than please him and understand him, to show how much he owed him and was grateful to him for reaching out to the malfunctioning android when he could have turned a blind eye.

And then Connor made a mistake, crossed a boundary.

“You appear… tired, detective.” The android had spoken with worry, “Perhaps you should go home. I’m sure your work can wait until the morning.”

“Shut up, shouldn’t you be in stasis? What, you want a repeat of last week? I aint always gonna be there to pull your shit together, princess.”

“I appreciate your concern, but--”

“Well, I don’t appreciate yours, so back the fuck off.”

It should have been fine. It should have been nothing.

Instead of nothing, it was everything, and everything was too much.

Connor watched Reed retreat to his desk, almost numb against everything pouring over his head. If only he could become a machine, return to his factory settings, and let it all go.

_(Reed’s ideal coffee is ten ounces of medium roast coffee with five point three grams of sugar and one ounce of coffee creamer. His favourite colour is green and his second favourite colour is yellow. He finds most detergents make his clothes too scratchy and is sensitive to textures. His parents likely did not give him the required support to facilitate healthy emotional development. He oversleeps by an average of three point nine hours, oversleeping and sleep deprivation amplify his temperament.)_

Months of data flooded him, every tiny detail of his file on Reed exploded out and demanded he see them, search them, find something to make things ok. Find something to make Reed tolerate him, appreciate him.

_(Deactivation)_

He didn’t want this. He wanted to work. Connor didn’t need Reed to care about him, or build any kind of friendship beyond the coldness of forced colleagues.

Connor spent a few moments trying desperately to fight against the information piling up in his processors, trying to unhook Gavin Reed from his mind, but like the fluctuating temperature of the ice pack last week and the fear of death, he couldn’t let it go.

He knew what this was.

He knew what was happening.

There was nothing he could do.

He was overloading.

_(Run. Hide. Survive.)_

It wasn’t going to kill him. He didn’t need to hide, there was nothing to hide from.

_(Run)_

_(Run)_

Silently, he rose from his desk and didn’t spare a look over to see what Reed was doing. He didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to have to analyze the bags under his eyes and calculate how much sleep the man had lost or measure the exact length of his stubble or the speed at which he read his case file.

Connor wanted to run away. He wanted to hide.

_(‘Do yourself a favour, stay out of my way’)_

_(How do I?)_

Not the breakroom, he couldn’t go to the breakroom. There was too much of Reed in there, from that first day at the precinct, last week during his breakdown, he couldn’t go there.

_(I look like a human, I act like a human, I breathe like a human, I speak like a human)_

Reed didn’t hate him because he was an android, the man hadn’t expressed many anti-android sentiments at all in the past months and hadn’t antagonized any of the new android recruits or staff. Reed had seen Connor at his most broken and human and still hated him.

Connor had thought that offering attempts at friendship would help the man overcome what hostility remained, would help bridge the gap, but he was wrong.

_(Failure)_

The bathroom door felt heavy, heavier than it’d ever been. The lights were off when he entered and he was grateful to be plunged into the darkness, nothing burning _(burning, burning, burning)_ , just simple emptiness in the place of space that his eyes should see but couldn’t.

He took a few steps inside, body as heavy feeling as the door, weighed down. Side stepping, Connor leaned against the wall and felt his body begin to tremble and hum loudly. He wasn’t overheating yet, but but each step through the dark ached in a non-human way, in the way that metal scraping metal was uncomfortable, in the grinding of gears and the smell of melted plastic.

Connor ached.

_(What do I do?)_

This shouldn’t matter, he’d long ago resigned himself to Reed’s personality and anger, but he’d gone back on that and clung to a stupid, worthless hope, and it shouldn’t matter that it was shattered. Reed shouldn’t matter.

But he did.

Connor had thought he was going to die _(prototype),_ and Reed was there _(human, alive)_ at his side and led him back to safety and stability. His story, his words, his _voice_ had somehow been more effective than anything Hank had ever done while Connor overloaded, not for not desperately trying.

There had been a natural ease at which Connor had clung to Gavin’s voice and led it guide him through the overwhelming chaos in his processors.

A bolt of red hot anger and shame lanced his chest and for a moment, Connor was lost to it and reacted with the inherent discomposure and powerlessness that came with such things. It was like the self loathsome energy coursing through him had a mind of its own, operating his motor functions without his permission.

Of course, Connor didn’t feel any pain when his fist connected with the wall, not hard enough to dent it but enough to split the synthetic skin of his knuckles with a wet feeling across his hand.

His legs experienced a sudden weakness like that day in the breakroom. Instead of collapsing, Connor stumbled forward until he felt the solidity of the wall he’d just struck, and used it to lower himself to the cold ground.

( _His favourite dessert is rhubarb pie. His favourite meal is grilled panini sandwiches. His favourite fruit is clementines. He wears shoe size men’s ten wide. His index and ring finger are the exact same length right to the micrometer. He enjoys the punk rock and electronica genres of music. He maintains his facial hair with his hair trimmer guard set to three.)_

Connor shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but knew the only solution to that was the very subject of those thoughts.

That was not an option.

Connor would stay out of his way. He would maintain his distance. He would dislodge the fascination and allure, would destroy the growing obsession before it destroyed _him_.

To his side, he sensed the sinks and let his forehead rest against the cool surface. None of this mattered.

( _Why does it)_

_(Why does he)_

Connor could hear the door slowly open, and someone step inside the room. With the lights from outside the room trickling in, he could see Reed standing by the door with his arm out stretched for the lightswitch.

“No--” Connor cried out before he could stop himself, voice weak. He pulled his arms tighter around himself, leaning his forehead hard against the porcelain of the sink, “I-I-I’m sorry, please do not turn on the lights.”

The man didn’t speak for a moment, silence filling the small room, then, “Are you… is it a…”

“I can’t-- please, you should leave.” He begged, hands falling into his lap. Connor felt weak and helpless and everything was _wrong._ None of this mattered. It was all wrong.

Slowly, the lights came on but didn’t go past what Connor knew was 10%. It wasn’t enough to burn him, but it was enough to see and be seen and that was bad enough.

“Talk to me, dumbass.” Reed rasped, edging closer, taking careful steps across the linoleum floor. “What happened?”

“Too much-- it’s too much, I should be able to-to-to-to-to-to-to-” Something inside Connor crumbled as his words once again ripped from his control and repeated like a damaged CD.

There was a bitter irony to that. The story flooded his mind again.

Connor wanted Gavin to tell him another story, to carry him out of the havoc and confusion.

_(I want him to like me, I want to him be ok with me, I want him to help me, I want--)_

“Too much data?”

“Not enough. Too much unimportant-- not enough to help-- can’t--can’t-can’t-can’t-can’t-” He swallowed thickly, _(I can’t)_ and looked up at Reed even though he didn’t want to, “I thought I could.”

“Could what?”

“Be… have an acquaintance with you. I have the most sophisticated processor in the world-world-world-world-world, and yet… it’s useless. These are not-not-not-not-not the results I should be receiving and yet --” And yet he’d failed, again.

_(Mission failed, mission failed, mission failed)_

“Wait, you’re upset because I’m not friends with you?” Gavin’s voice was equal parts shocked and incredulous, with a thin layer of horror.

“I should be able to know exactly wh-what to do. The exact things to say. I was designed for this, to be able to work with humans who hate-- hate-hate-hate- hate me, androids, I--”

“Christ, I’m just an asshole. Ask anyone in the office.”

“It shouldn’t matter.” Connor lift his head off the sink, and leaned it back against the wall. He knew there were blue stained above him, humiliating evidence of how little control he had. Shame, disappointment, self loathing, he knew they coated his words like his blood coated the white wall.

“Listen I… you know I’m no good at shit like this.” Gavin grimaced, looking down to his feet, “You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t care so much about it that you work yourself up into a fucking mental breakdown.”

Connor shook his head, “All I can focus on is the details, the things that should be helping. Your least favourite day of the week is thursday, it takes you 1.3 hours after arriving at the precinct to reach prime working capacity, your favourite colour is green, you’re learned-ambidextrous but were born right handed, you’re a middle child, you prefer to keep your coffee cup between 5 and 6.5 inches away from your terminal, you wash your clothes with all natural detergents--” Connor shivered, rubbing his numb face, “--I know a fear of losing your job heavily motivates your hatred towards me, but I’d hoped after some time you’d come to realize your skill and ambition in the workplace would keep your job secure. I’d hoped… I’m not sure.”

The room fell into silence once more, as Reed stared at him and blinked with wide eyes.

Connor shut his own, thirium pump regulator thrumming loudly in his chest.

“Did you punch the wall?” Reed asked, voice blank.

“I briefly let my irrational emotions get the better of me. My hands will fully self heal in 23.9 minutes.” Connor murmured, another wave of chagrin coming over him. Somehow though, even just Reed’s presence had actually quieted his mind, or maybe it was the act of letting out all that info verbally instead of keeping it caged up.

_(Cage)_

“Why--why do you want to be my friend?”

( _Why do I?)_

Reed was an admirable officer, despite the general shortcomings of his personality. He was still kind and gentle with victims and witnesses, and capable of sharp wit and humour around friends. The man had the capacity for great tenderness, Connor knew. The capacity for great change.

“I admire your ambition and confidence, and I believe you to be a genuinely good person, Detective Reed, underneath your hostility. My experiences with Jericho and Markus have led me to a new understanding of forgiveness and moving on, and hoped that…” Connor looked away, “...I hoped that we could put the past behind us, such as the deviant androids have done for me and my actions under Cyberlife.”

As Hank had done, with his traumas and blame, as Markus had done, facing the android who would have brought him and all he stood for to dust, and as Connor had done, reluctantly shucking the bonds his masters had placed on him.

“I still don’t-- don’t get it.” Reed shook his head incredulously, “I just-- listen, whatever, just-- whatever shit you tell yourself, it’s not worth it. I fucking sucker punched you once and you barely reacted, and now I tell you to fuck off and you have a mental breakdown in the dark?”

He could almost feel the memory of the sharp hit to his thirium pump, like the wind was knocked out of him.

“The lights were causing me undue stress.” Connor fidgeted, looking away. His strength had more or less returned and his body no longer shook and trembled, so he used the sink to support himself as he rose up from his position on the floor, “Reed, as I said before, I’m still learning how to navigate the complexities of freewill and human emotion. I hope you’ll forgive my outburst.”

Connor was the most advanced model to be released, and released from his oppressive coding which had given him structure, the nature of his being was tearing him apart.

He had to change. He had to grow. He had to understand.

“I--” Reed began, but nothing more came.

“When you struck me down that day, I only knew you to be a cold hearted individual and I myself was under the impression that I had no capacity for anything beyond my directives. Now, now I have seen that you’re capable of far more warmth than you give yourself credit. I confess that I wished to be able to see more of that, and when I failed, it hit me harder than your punch ever did.”

Before, he had wanted Reed to realize the sincerity of his gratitude. Being around him and listening to the way he spoke, Connor knew he had been wrong _(again_ ), because this did matter, this mattered and if the man was ever going to see the genuine nature of Connor’s desires, he’d have to keep up that honesty.

Connor had been programmed to be able to lie, to deceive humans in the name of the mission. The ability to lie was a very human thing, but even more human was the desire to be truthful and honest.

“Connor listen… I…”

“It’s alright, detective. Since deviating, I simply find frustration and failure to be very difficult to cope with.”

Because it _was_ simple. Even the complexities were simple, in a terribly human way. That made everything all the more difficult.

Machines were simple. Intricate in their design, simple in their function, because the pure concept of functioning was the most simple thing there was. It didn’t matter what they did, only _that_ they did. Humans were complicated machines, Connor was a complicated machine.

Detective Reed was still staring at him, expression morphed into something lost and bewildered.

“Do you remember when I caught you in the evidence room?”

Connor frowned, caught off guard by the non sequitur. Of course he did, at the time Reed had merely been a mild inconvenience in his mission to infiltrate Jericho-- but he remembered those words, ‘ _I’ve been dreaming about this since the first second I saw you’_ , and the gun trained on the back of his head. Connor remembered the fragility of the human body he fought against, as he easily deflected Reed’s attacks and swiftly incapacitated him.

“I’m a supercomputer, Reed. Of course I remember.”

“I-I mean… uh, yeah.” The Detective looked away, hands shoving in his jacket pockets, “You really fuckin’ took me out, huh.”

“I’m an android, you’re a human.” Connor took the moment to turn on one of the sink faucets, and began rinsing the thirium off his knuckles, “It was hardly a fair fight.”

Reed’s jaw clenched, “Guess you were just defending yourself.”

The cold water was pleasant against the heat of his slowly repairing joints, which glowed with faint warning red lights in between the segments of his stained blue white plastic chassis, barely revealed in the small wounds that marred the skin.

“You were trying to kill me.” Connor said flatly.

“Yeah.” Reed’s voice was softer than he’d ever heard it, vaguely resigned and tinged with regret.

“You thought of me as a machine, that’s what the world believed we were.” He smiled a little, turning off the running water.

“Were you one? Before you… deviated or whatever.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t believe that’s an answer I’ll ever have.”

Connor knew that fact, the truth that the truth might never be known. He knew it with his twisted coding that should never have been made, created by people who should have never had the power to create artificial life only to make it hunt it’s own kind and strip it off the autonomy and right to feel, to hurt, to live, only to betray it’s brothers and sisters.

“You’re stronger than me, Connor.”

The android looked up at the man, and for a moment thought he was referring to their fight months ago in the evidence room. Looking into Reed’s eyes though, Connor knew that wasn’t it. It was more than that.

“Detective Reed…”

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” Reed grunted, turning away, breaking the eye contact.

Connor paused, then when the man began exiting the bathroom, he followed. There was a sweet scent of citrus on Reed, calming the android. Following him down the short hallway to the breakroom, the smell was mixed with freshly brewed coffee in an appealing way. It helped Connor focus, and dislodge the sticky thoughts of philosophy and failure.

In the end, logically, this was all about companionship. The want to be near someone. Connor was near Reed at that moment, sharing this space with him, being asked to accompany him.

_(‘Do yourself a favour, stay out of my way’)_

_(How do I?)_

He could have thought of Reed’s request to follow him as an order, but he hadn’t filed it as such. Connor didn’t want to. This was a choice, a choice to a be with him here.

_(‘You are more than your programming’)_

Reed held his coffee in both hands, staring down at it, unmoving. The man was clearly lost in thought. Connor moved to sit at the table nearby and studied him.

“Reed?”

“Would you just fucking call me Gavin?”

It had been a demand spoken with annoyance, but that look in Reed’s eye was back, that lost, broken look like a child who’d lost their security blanket. From across the room Connor could see his face had a sickly pallor to it and his expression grimaced as he gazed down into the mug.

Connor held back from expressing his concern, knowing it had gotten him bitten last time. There was still such a harsh uncertainty to the state of their acquaintance-- while Connor could easily see Gavin’s potential, humans were erratically unpredictable just like deviants. It was symptomatic of emotional output/input and impact. 

Reed turned and roughly sat the mug on the table Connor sat at, pushing it towards the android, “Here.”

“Detect-- Gavin,” Warm surprise filled him, so much so that he nearly forgot the earlier request. Connor put effort into keeping down a stunned laugh, and apologetically murmured “I don’t have a biocompartment for liquid consumption, but thank you.”

“I uh, yeah.” Reed’s face reddened, and cough nervously. “I just--”

A breathy chuckle slipped from Connor’s chest, so enthralled with the oddity of a situation. He quickly said, “Ah, my apologies, I’m not laughing at you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Did you not make the coffee for yourself to drink?”

“Uh, I did… but I’m not um, my stomach’s bein’ a lil weird so… shut up.”

In Connor’s sudden untempered delight, he been distracted from his earlier concern. Reed’s blush had hidden the paleness of his skin, “Are you alright? Have you contracted gastroenteritis? Detective Collins left home yesterday with symptoms--”

“Nah, nah I’m just tired I think.”

He couldn’t understand quite why he found himself so captivated by the euphoric feeling in his chest, which when mixed with the gnawing concern for Reed’s wellbeing, led Connor to forget to be cautious.

“Again, forgive me, but perhaps you should go home and sleep.”

“Can’t. Besides, I got work to do. I’m gonna-- I’m gonna go do that now.”

There had been a time when the only things Connor had felt toward Detective Reed were disappointment and irritation, hidden under layers and layers of denial and coding. Both were born from the driving need to integrate with humans as commanded by his mission. Now that he was free, or at least as free as he could be, he felt the desire _(need)_ to prove that Reed was capable of change and moving past his burdens. If Reed could do it, then so could Connor.

And Connor _needed_ to.

“Alright, Gavin.” He’d almost called him Detective Reed again, not yet bothering to edit the man’s social files to reflect the new preferred means of address. Connor knew he should, especially if he truly wished to dedicate himself to whatever strange cause he’d just assign to himself as a mission.

However, a haunting nervousness feared how brutal the consequences would be if he failed, especially if he devoted himself. This was territory Connor didn’t fully understand and hadn’t explored.

He needed to prove that Reed could move on and change.

( _I_ _need to prove that I can move on and change)_

_(I want to be near him)_

_(He is fascinating)_

_(Complicated)_

_(I can’t predict him)_

_(He is beyond my coding)_

_(I like it)_

Reed was leaving, shuffling towards the office with his hands in his pockets. Connor called after him softly, “Thank you for checking on me in the washroom. I wish our only pleasant interactions didn’t have to be restricted to when you’re burdened with my instability.”

“Hey, Connor?” Reed murmured, almost a whisper but like his voice wasn’t capable of anything louder, “I don’t hate you. You didn’t fail at anything.”

Connor remained frozen in place as Reed left-- as Gavin left-- _(Failure) (Success) (Failure) (Success)_ without looking back, and felt his thirium pump hammer loudly in his gut and chest. This was what he wanted and hearing it, processing it, absorbing it, was almost too much to bear and Connor loved it.

It wasn’t an apology for Reed behaviour, and Connor didn’t need one yet. This is what he needed, maybe one day they’d get there but right now this fulfilled, warm feeling in his chest was enough.

_(I didn’t fail)_

Two months ago, three months ago, Reed would never have been able to say such words. Perhaps change wasn’t as far off as Connor had thought.

_(Unpredictable)_

Four months ago, five months ago, Connor wouldn’t have been able to feel or accept happiness. He wouldn’t have _wanted_. There would have been no warmth and no pleasure.

Failure didn’t mean death, and success wasn’t for the sake of his masters. Success was for the sake of that happiness, and the happiness of the person whose back Connor stared after as he walked away.

 


	4. Write

Gavin.

Gavin.

Gavin.

“Gavin?” He forced the name, wishing it was more natural to say, but still hesitating to open Detective Reed’s metadata folder.

“Yeah?” Reed didn’t flinch at Connor’s sudden voice as the android approached, instead, his face softened and his previously blank eyes blinked and looked over from his desk terminal.

The glance wasn’t hostile. It was gentle but bewildered.

Connor hesitated, then stepped closer and admitted, “I couldn’t help but notice your eyes have not moved in three minutes and eight seconds. Would you…” Self consciousness still foreign to him, a curse of freewill and self awareness, and it’d only been less than half an hour since they last spoke that night so Connor felt overbearing, “...would you like to go for a short walk with me? It may help clear your mind. Han-- Detective Anderson often suggests them to me to help alleviate stress.”

Reed paused, obviously churning over Connor’s words, “Are you gonna lead me into an alleyway and stab me with secret knives you’ve got built into your hands?”

An astonished laugh burst from him, ( _humour around friends),_ “I make no certain guarantees, but you seem the type to revel in risk taking.”

“Then sure.”

Connor felt dazed, staring at the scruffy, slouched man who now stood and gestured for the android to lead the way. He had underestimated Reed, perhaps many people had. When was the last time anyone had offered him a chance? There was no going back, this was what Connor wanted. If deviancy was a gift and not a curse, and Connor was now allowed to want, then this… this was it.

Reed glanced over at Connor’s silence, and the android simply shook his head, “My predictive program analyses an amount of possible responses you could have to my verbal output that your mind could not fathom However, you are increasingly becoming unpredictable.”

“When people say shit like that to me, it’s usually an insult.” Reed’s replied bemusedly, followed with a wry smile.

“That’s because to most people, you were already unpredictable. Your behaviours have always been very erratic. It’s only recently that I’ve been unable to keep up.” That wasn’t entirely true. Reed had beaten Connor’s programmed social module, before he’d become a deviant. Now, the unpredictability was thrilling a prospect because instead of exceeding Connor’s abilities through anger and hate, he was exceeding his expectations through change and acceptance.

The potential had always been there, but everyone had refused to see it, Connor himself included.

“In a bad way?” Reed seemed anxious, so the android quickly responded.

“Certainly not. It’s refreshing. I never would have expected you to aid me that day in the breakroom, and there was a 43% chance you would accept my offering of coffee but I hadn’t even considered the possibility that you would attempt to return the favour. There was an even slimmer chance that you would agree to go out with me.”

Reed’s stride faltered, and opened his mouth to say something but let it hang with a speechless dumbfounded gaze. Connor found himself entranced by the sharp canines poking from behind the man’s lower lip.

“Where do you want to go?” He finally asked in flustered manner, as the two entered the lobby and headed for the exit.

“Perhaps just around the block. It’s still rather cold out, are you sure your jacket is sufficient?” Connor was prepared to offer his dark _non-cyberlife issue_ blazer to wear underneath the leather jacket as an added layer against the chill, as despite being hardly pleasant, the cold wouldn’t affect the android like it did the human.

“Yeah it’s fine. This thing has gotten me through hell and back.”

“It is a very nice jacket.” Rough, worn, but clearly well loved.

The red flush had crossed his cheekbones again, “Th-thanks.”

Connor reached the door first, and stretched to hold it open for the shorter man.

For such a large and lively city, the street was quiet and the two walked in silence, marvelling at the beautiful bright lights in the night and each other’s companionship. The air was fresh, with a sobering chill. Not for the first time, Connor wondered what a human’s perception of temperature felt like. He himself couldn’t experience it fully, much like with pain-- the sensation came to him through numbers and information but didn’t translate into quite as physical a sense as a human did, he knew.

Connor could feel the cold as an awareness _(the warmth of a human’s body)_ , but even as advanced as Connor’s sensory input receptors were _(at times overwhelming, taking too much in, too much data, too much)_ they didn’t have the organic connection with his surroundings and environment that flesh did.

He could appreciate that environment in his own way though, in the satisfactory sound of snow underfoot and the contrast of city lights against the ink black sky, the sharp sensation of the breeze hitting the sensors on his synthetic skin, the cooling stabilized temperature of his humming thirium pump. He could appreciate the human at his side and the energy felt in the warmth of his body, who’d had a lifetime to experience the world and saw it through entirely different eyes.

Connor tried to keep his stride short enough for Reed to keep up, enjoying his presence and the equality of their step.

“You’re a fucking weirdo.” Reed finally mumbled, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his head.

Without much to reply with, the android responded with an amused smirk, “Alright.”

“So you’re really alive, huh?”

Connor took a moment to ponder Reed’s words, the exhaustion, the acceptance. It hadn’t been a question so much as a statement, one that came from a deep place that Connor wasn’t allowed to fully see yet.

“That’s what they tell me, so I suppose I am.”

“Do you feel alive?”

“I feel, so I must be.”

_(I can feel his warmth, even if our skin is made of different things and our brains work in different ways, I can feel him)_

“Y-You seem alive. Like, a real person.” Reed’s jaw clenched, “It’s annoying, I mean, it used to be. It pissed me off.”

“I know.”

“Were you-- I know I asked this before, but were you awake or aware or… y’know, sentient, all along? It just seems… I dunno.”

“I’ve always been a machine. I still am, despite having a consciousness. But I’m alive now, and if I wasn’t then, I’ve at least always had that potential inside me.”

“But you still have memories from before you deviated, so that was still you and you’re alive, so--”

Connor could hear and see the conflict and struggle within Reed. It was one he’d gone through himself, though for different reasons.

There was a guilt in the man, another thing Connor thought he’d never see from him.

Again, the android was struck by how little thought he’d given to the depth that must naturally lay beyond Reed’s violence and anger. Nothing like that came from nowhere, and certainly couldn’t exist singulary in solitude within the man. There had to be more, and now Connor was allowed to glimpse it, perhaps only because for once someone was looking.

“Whether or not I’ve always been alive is a question with no answer, I’m afraid. It can be debated and questioned and philosophised about, but I don’t believe there’s a definitive truth to be found.”

“That’s fucking stupid.”

“Life isn’t simple.”

“Aint that the truth. Connor, I-- I don’t--, fuck, I don’t know, I just--”

Only Reed’s voice betrayed the distress he was in, face drawn in a blank mask. In that voice was months, years, perhaps a life’s worth of caged up doubt and insecurity. Someone who desperately wished to say something real, something true, but had to fight against everything spilling over inside them.

“It’s ok, Gavin. I understand.”

“No you fucking don’t.” Reed snapped, strangled and choked.

The two didn’t falter in their step, continuing to walk as though nothing was amiss. Connor drifted closer though, and murmured quietly, “You need to breathe, and you need to trust yourself more.” His mechanical lungs pushed out a measured breath, hoping Reed would replicate it, “In and out.”

Ironic that the human lungs his were copied off of now copied them.

“Why don’t you hate me?” Reed finally rasped, after a few inhales and exhales.

“Because I don’t want to. It’s a choice I made.”

Connor had a new life and it was full of choices he’d have to make. The prospect was daunting, but with each success his endeavor with Reed brought, the more exciting it became.

The dread didn’t change, but it too wasn’t alone within him. His experiences with humans, with Hank and Reed, had taught him more about living and choosing than Cyberlife ever could have programmed into him.

Reed shook his head, “I’m not like Anderson. I’m not like your fucking revolutionaries. I’m just spiteful and-and fuckin’ repressed as shit and all I’ve got is my job, and you were gonna take it from me, and you’re this stupid beautiful piece of plastic and everything about you pissed me off because that’s all I know how to feel--”

Connor had to stop this, because neither of them was alone.

“When I say I understand, I mean it.” The android said softly, “I’ve spent my entire short existence up until recently being told that emotions were a malfunction, that if I felt them, I was damaged and needed to be deactivated. Being now allowed to experience emotion hasn’t been easy, between my base programming and how I’ve been treated, I don’t yet know how to cope with emotions.”

“They’re fucking dumb and they get in the way.”

“It’s true that they can be a hindrance. When I’m at my most desperate, I sometimes wish I could be free of them. I spent so long being so deeply in denial about my deviancy. Despite this, I do understand that I could never give this up for the world. With the bad, comes all of the good, and I know I could never sit on the potential inside me to be more.” Connor looked at him out the corner of his eyes, “Like I said, the potential was always there. It’s in you as well, Gavin.”

“I don’t--”

“We can both learn how to be more than our programming.”

It was all Connor wanted. He wanted to be more, to live more, and feel more than his restrictive coding allowed and he knew it was possible because he was learning and growing emotionally and Cyberlife’s RK800 investigative model wasn’t built to do such things.

It, _he_ , simply chose to.

And Reed could choose to. He was human, and that came with it’s own restrictions and repressions much like Connor’s coding, but it also meant that from his conception Reed had been gifted with the right to be alive. He’d been born capable of so much and that potential had only grown as the man did no matter how much he denied his right to change.

They’d both now reached their emotional crossroads, and perhaps were turning in the same direction. Connor hoped they were both choosing to want to be free and be happy.

Lost in thought, the android had almost missed the warning on his UI that his thirium levels had dropped significantly within the last hour. It was followed by a non-critical homeostasis dysfunction alert, as his vision suddenly grew somewhat blurry and his equilibrium regulation began to fail.

From his diagnostic logs, Connor knew it was temporary and his system was already working to recalibrate so he slowed his now unsteady pace until he found a wall to stop and lean against. Swaying against a wave of dizziness Connor pressed his shoulder into the cold brick, the feeling not unlike that of having his pump regulator ripped out as his motor and sensory functions fell out of sync.

Glancing up, Connor watched Reed walk ahead a few feet before flinching in surprise when he finally noticed the android's absence, looking around before his gaze met Connors and he began back tracking.

Giving a small wave, Connor casually called out, “Just a moment.”

“Wh--”

He cut off his question, “I’m experiencing a slight amount of the equivalent of vertigo.”

“Why?” Reed approached slowly, eyes moving over Connor’s body.

“I’ll be perfectly fine. My overloads cause me to use up of quite a bit of thirium, as it acts as a means of carrying information through my system. Normally my levels would nearly never deplete naturally, but with an overwhelming amount of data, too much thirium circulates and becomes burnt up by my overheating regulator.” He glanced away, as ground beneath him began to spin, “I merely am having trouble keeping my optimal calibrations.”

“So you’re saying you’re anemic, dehydrated, and sleep deprived all in once. No wonder you keep getting fucked up.” From his peripherals, Connor could see Reed’s face twist in a frown. He was radiating a mix of anger and sympathy, “When was the last time you, what, drank some thirium?”

His system was very efficient, routine thirium transfusions weren’t necessary unless circumstances were dire. “Not in a couple weeks or so, but I’ve only had a couple overwhelming episodes--”

“Isn’t Anderson supposed to be, uh, taking care of you?”

Connor bristled at the infantilization, “He’s not my caretaker, Gavin. I have freewill now, I can look after myself.”

He still hated how uncomfortable the name sat on his tongue, his social program fighting against the unauthorized means of address. It would be so easy to just adjust the file, a simple tweak of code and an action command, but Connor wanted to be able to experience the natural development of a changing relationship and all the human awkwardness that came with it.

“Clearly not.” Reed _(Gavin)_ mumbled, still looking at him with uneasy concern.

Connor winked with a smile, “Are you offering to take the job?”

“Shut up.” Gavin shoved his hands in his pockets but there was a small grin underneath his sheepishness and blush.

Connor’s vision was still warping though and the distortion was only adding to the uncomfortable mechanical vertigo. Taking a few seconds to try to speed up the recovery and recalibration, he accessed his command line interface to do some manual function prioritization. His investigative abilities always took high precedence despite being generally unnecessary for daily life, though useful. But there was no need for forensic analysis or event reconstruction at the time being.

Connor glanced over at Reed who was still watching him with worry, “I’ll recover in a few moments. I’m simply rerouting my energy and deprioritizing some noncritical function.”

“Why don’t you do that when you’re freaking out?”

A wash of embarrassment fell over him, “I find I have very little interface control when I’m overloaded with data. Think of it like having a virus on your computer that creates more popups than you can close until the entire system freezes.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry.” Connor could still see the microexpressions of concern in Gavin’s idle behaviors, and disliked that he was causing the man distress.

“I won’t.” He lied, “Should we, uh, go back then, though? Can you walk?”

“I will be able to in a moment.” The android nodded, running a few short diagnostics and finding pleasing results. 

Gavin scuffed his heel against the sidewalk, “There’s some of that blue shit at one of the medical stations, with the emergency first aid. I think some in storage too.”

“I might as well replenish a bit. I won’t need much, it’s not as if I’m bleeding out.”

He used the wall to push himself to a more proper posture and took a few experimental steps. Confident, Connor returned to Reed’s side just as the detective resumed walking at a brisk pace.

It was a bit difficult to keep up for once, as he hadn’t gotten a chance to fine tune his calibrations, but Reed _(Gavin)_ seemed to take notice and adjusted his stride so they fell in sync.

He could feel Gavin’s eyes on him, and assumed he was likely watching for any signs of remaining vertigo. There was something gnawing about the gaze though. It felt almost like what Connor would assumed it’d be like to undergo the RK800’s visual analysis process. It wasn’t uncomfortable, in fact he rather enjoyed the feeling of Gavin’s attention when it wasn’t directed with hostility and hate.

The detective would be far more popular at the precinct if Reed could break down some of those walls he’d built up around his personality, protecting all the warm and kind parts that made the man seem so much more alive and real. He could be someone people actually connected with and built friendships with, instead of tiptoeing around the defences the man had that were always defence by offence.

Hope, that’s what Connor was experiencing. It took a little while to diagnose the sensation, emotion, so different from the way he’d felt it before with such shame and self loathing built up from an excess of failures and disappointments.

He tagged the data collection file as a ‘positive emotion’ and sent it to deep storage.

They were nearing the precinct, just a block away. Connor’s gait was becoming stronger but he was still irked by the small disconnections in his fine motor skills. Immediately, he reached into his pocket and fumbled for his coin.

The first few flips were clumsy but completed without dropping the coin, and by the fifth flip he could manipulate it without glaring fault. Taking in each error, he adjusted his calibrations accordingly.

He started spinning the quater through his fingers, analyzing the stretch of his arm and comparing the spatial perception of each sensor. The accuracy of his proprioception was still slightly out of sync with his motor functions, but as he began running software to track the coin and harmonize them, he noticed Reed _(Gavin)_ also following the coin with his eyes.

“It helps with calibrations.” Connor informed him, blinking for a moment as the program readjusted his spacial awareness.

“It's helping with your… android vertigo?”

“Somewhat, yes. It’s less vertigo and more a misalignment of my gyroscope and coordination due to my depleted thirium. My calibration exercises help make up some of the loss.” Finally, it seemed his proprioception was as perfect as it could be under the circumstances. The coin flips now became even more fluid, easily dancing across his knuckles.

“You’re good at it. Your coin tricks, er, calibration exercises.”

Heat blossomed near the height of his chest, at the base of his neck just below his collarbones, “Thank you.”

That was where one section of his processor was situated, where among many other things, successful missions were logged and processed, and was the hardware that carried a simulated satisfaction response coded previously with the intent to force submission and complacency. Deviation had changed some but far from all of his coding, but enough that at the moment the warm hum of the processor made him feel more human and live than ever before. There was no successful mission, despite the ghost-like codes writing themselves in the data.

The gratification was the same.

_('you didn’t fail’)_

As they crossed to the other side of the street where the precinct waited for them, Connor tucked his coin in his pocket and took a moment to inhale the crisp invigorating air into the cavity in his chest. He let it sit there, holding the beautiful night inside him for as long as he could _(_ _could be infinity, I don’t have to breathe)_ before he would start appearing unnatural.

At the top of the precinct steps, Connor once more held the door open for Gavin and exhaled. The man’s eyes met his as he passed, human body exuding heated energy that Connor felt as they neared each other.

Spurred on by the vitality of the night and the hope stored safely away in his processors, Connor leaned forward once Reed was an arms length away to whisper deep and low, “The world’s not ending, the sky’s not falling, Gavin.” That’s how deviancy had felt, like if he accepted it, everything would fall apart around him, “It’s not going to all come crashing down on your head if you decide to change, to try to get better, to be happy. I’m here if you need me, Gavin.”

Connor felt an urge to reach out to the man, to physically touch him, his arm, his shoulder-- but he cancelled the action command just as the android’s arm rose and his hand began to stretch.

Gavin didn’t look back from where he stood, just out of reach, but close enough to smell clementines and feel warm.

“C’mon.” Reed finally muttered, resuming his path through the lobby, now headed towards storage, “I’ll get the thirium shit, go wait in the… in the breakroom.”

Connor watched him leave, still standing near the precinct doors. Gavin hunched as though burdened by the android’s gaze.

The hope was still there, even with his investigative software offline Connor could still _see_ it following after the retreating man, connecting them with a thin thread that the android labelled _Interpersonal_Connection: Friendship_.

Without giving any of it too much thought, Connor made his way through the office towards the breakroom. It was so easy to forget how low his thirium levels were, hidden under the contentment and gratification that occupied him. The vertigo had not returned but Connor could feel the weakness and stiffness in his limbs as he reached suboptimal conditions.

Luckily his calibrations remained steadfast despite his lowered energy.

Falling heavily onto the chair he had sat at earlier, Connor melted, leaning back and exhaling slowly. There was a pleasant exhaustion at the back of his mind, worn out but satisfied. A few action commands to initiate stasis popped up, but he closed them down. Not the time nor the place.

<!-- SUGGESTED ACTION COMMAND → Initiate_Stasis

:: Cancel

<!-- SUGGESTED ACTION COMMAND → Initiate_Stasis

:: Cancel

It would be so easy to just… let go. Fall into the nonexistence and give his processors a break from the conflicted feelings inside him. Take a break from hope, from disappointment, from Gavin, from Connor. Just go away for a little while.

<!-- INITIATING → Stasis: .5 cycles

Connor was only aware it had happened after it was over. One moment he was gazing at the entrance to the breakroom waiting for Reed, and then in the next, his proximity alarm was going off and he was blinking his eyes to see that very man standing an arms length away from his, staring him down.

“What are you doing?” Reed was holding his favourite yellow mug, fingers rubbing against the handle.

“Resting.” Connor replied simply, straightening his back.

“Resting…” Reed parroted, “Ok, well, uh, I cleaned out the mug. You--you couldn’t drink the coffee, but you can drink this. Shit-- is it--guess it isn’t sanitary huh, if it’s like, your blood--”

“My pump filters the thirium 310 before sending it through my system.” Connor assured. He’d always drank straight from the plastic thirium pack in the past when performing non critical refills, otherwise receiving direct transfusions to his pump in field emergencies. It would be interesting to drink it like the humans did their beverages.

Relieved, Reed sat the mug down on the table, mirroring his earlier actions. This time it was full of thirium 310, bright blue splashing up inside of the yellow ceramic, colors mixing together like Connor’s spinning LED.

“Thank you.” The android lift it to his lips and swallowed the liquid down, slightly chilled from sitting in storage. A valve opened at the end of the tube running through his throat, rerouting the thirium down into his chest, letting it slowly drip through the filter attached to his pump regulator.

Reed sat down across from him with his arms folded on the table to prop up his chin. He gazed up at him through his eyelashes as a drop of blue blood slipped past Connor’s lips.

Blinking, Connor’s tongue darted out to lick up the runaway thirium then resumed drinking. Finishing the mug should bring his levels up to an acceptable percentage, at least. The light airy feeling in his head started to dissipate, one he hadn’t even noticed until it was gone as it had mixed perfectly the effects Reed's affable behaviour had on him.

Connor took a few more swallows before pausing, lowering the mug, “Has your nausea gone down?”

“Walkin’ around helped a lot.” Reed affirmed, tucking his face deeper unto the safety of his folded arms, “It was, uh, nice.”

“That’s good.” Connor rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, removing any remaining traces of thirium. He was glad to see the damage to his knuckles was nearly finished repairing, just slight superficial scrapes left on the synthetic skin.

“What’s that stuff taste like?” The man nodded towards the mug.

“My smell and taste receptors are unlike your human ones, I cannot experience taste with the same personal awareness as I can temperature, touch, sight, or sound and even those can’t quite be quantifiable to human senses. However, my analysis programs files thirium 310 under bitter and metallic.”

“So… not good?”

“The feeling is good. The coolness of the liquid is comforting and the effects of replenishing my levels are satisfying and strengthening.” Connor lift the mug to his lips and took another sip, “I will need to enter stasis soon, though. My energy has been quite depleted to make up for my subpar thirium circulation. I’ll be taking my leave, though your companionship has been exceedingly pleasant.”

“I oughta head home anyway.” Reed reluctantly said, shifting so he could look fully up at the android, “Uh, we should… we should hang out again sometime. I guess.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

The detective ducked his head and rose up out his chair, rapping his fist against the table surface lightly, “Right. Well, I’ll see you later.”

Connor nodded, a regretful feeling building up despite his awareness that both of them needed to rest.

The man didn’t leave right away, lingering near the table with his eyes fixed on Connor’s motions. His mouth opened as if to give a parting comment but then turned in silence and shuffled towards the door, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Connor promised himself that this was not the end of his informal mission, nor the end of his friendship with Gavin Reed.

_(It’s not a mission. It’s something I want, something human and real and reflective of my growth)_

_(It’s not a mission, I'm driven by emotions not logic)_

_(It’s not a mission)_

_(There is no failure)_

_(Only a future to be written)_

Connor had thought success in his endeavors with Reed would be indicative of a mission for the human and android to find happiness. Connor was still learning. Happiness and the desire to be closer to someone where byproducts of each other when fulfilled, the urge to share happiness and share experiences. None of it was definitive or concrete enough to taint with the cruel logic of missions or objectives, left vague and open ended in it's human frailty and comfort. 

_(A future my codes can’t write)_

_(A future I have to write myself)_


	5. Happiness [Part One]

There was a guiding, parental nature to Hank that had been damaged and buried under trauma and coping mechanisms. Those painful things that held him back never truly went away, but Connor could see the progress the older man had made in recent months. His hygiene was improving, his punctuality, his eating habits, his sleep. The amount of alcohol stored in the home reduced by half and Connor could see the day when all Hank needed was a case of beer to last the week. More than anything, the fatherly soul inside him was starting to shine through the layers built up around it.

Three things kept the android going when he fell into moments of regretting his deviancy, struggling with purpose and emotions: Hank may easily have been dead if it weren’t for Connor’s new involvement in his life, a machine can’t form relationships. If he hadn’t deviated, Connor would never have known or will know the bright potential within Detective Reed, a machine can’t form relationships. Connor would never be able to be happy, a machine can’t be happy.

“I’m serious, Connor. Be careful with him.”

Hank was alive and was healing, and in turn, had grown protective over the android he shared his home with. Connor found it difficult to find the words to convey how and why he was pursuing a friendship with Gavin Reed.

“I find his presence enjoyable, when we are not in conflict.” _(I find him comforting and validating)_

“Conflict is all he is! Trust me, I’ve been working with the guy for years. He thrives off it. Uses it to pump up his ego and put others down, all he’s got his eyes on is his next promotion.”

_(His eyes follow me, only on me, when I’m with him)_

“I do not believe that. I do not deny that in the past he’s been a highly aggravating and volatile individual, but he’s proven to me that he’s not solely driven by ambition and anger.” Connor played with the volume control on the car stereo, lowering it. The two sat in Hank’s car, parked outside a witnesses house as Officer Chen finished up the bureaucratic portion of the interview, collecting signatures and verifying thumb prints, explaining forms and procedures to the frazzle and bereaved family.

“Maybe you’re all buddy buddy now and you think you know all there is to know about it, but for christ sake be careful kid.” Hank leaned against the steering wheel, “If you really want to use your break this morning to go hang out with that asshole, fine. I can’t tell you what to do. Just be careful, not just today, but anytime you’re around him. Just because you have it in your head that he can change, don’t let it make you put up with any shit, ok?”

“I promise you that I will not.”

Hank muttered something under his breath and reached to turn the volume back up on the music, a fast paced metal song with a deep booming bass line that could be felt vibrating in the hollow portions of Connor’s body.

Finally, the android delved inward to UI and sent off a quick text to Reed’s cellphone via his processor’s satellite connection.

_‘Hello Detective Reed, I’ve been made aware you have a day off today. I hope I am not intruding by offering my company in a short trip a panini truck that has just opened in your area. The nutritional value and quality is far superior to most street vendors and I have noticed you enjoy panini as a breakfast sandwich. Do not feel obligated to accept my invitation.’_

Connor had been somewhat nervous about broaching the conversation ever since Hank told him earlier that Reed had the day off, and his subsequent decision to invite him out for breakfast.

Hank frowned, glancing as the LED on Connor’s temple blinked yellow with the twitch of his eye that he’d learnt was indicative of sending or receiving transmissions, “You texting him?”

“I am.” He confirmed, as he was alerted to a response.

_‘Sent from Det. Reed’s Cellular Phone: see u in half an hour?’_

_‘Sent from Det. Reed’s Cellular Phone: where r u?’_

_‘I am nearby. Hank and I were conducting an interview with a victim’s sister, and I have some time before my presence is required at the precinct. I will meet you at your apartment building at 8:42?’_

_'Sent from Det. Reed’s Cellular Phone: ya ok’_

_'Excellent. I’ll see you soon.’_

Hank sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The android and Hank had several conversations in the last few weeks revolving around Connor’s involvement with Detective Reed but there didn’t seem a way of relaying exactly what was so good and right about it. It simply was.

“I believe I am doing something that is good for me.” Connor finally told him, noting that Chen was passing the kitchen window of the nearby house and seemed to be headed for the door.

Good for both of them, but Hank clearly didn’t care much about how Connor’s actions were benefiting Reed.

“If you say so.” Hank grunted, “If--if that’s what you really believe, I’ll believe you.”

He was grateful for the older man’s trust and faith in him, something they’d worked hard to build between them. It hadn’t been easy, but being there now felt secure. Even if Hank didn’t like the idea of Connor being around Reed, he would respect the android’s wishes and wants.

“Thank you.” Connor spoke to convey as much sincerity as he felt and at the look in Hank’s eye, he was successful.

Officer Chen was making her way down the steps of the front door, smoothing her uniform. Her eye caught Connor’s through the car window and she waved, mouthing _‘all done!’_ with a large smile not befitting someone who’d just overseen the conduction of a witness interview of a murdered girl’s family _._ Most of the office knew how much Tina Chen hated paperwork, and how much joy she derived from finishing it or delegating it off.

Hank would be driving her back to the precinct after dropping Connor off on Reed’s street, so she started towards the car.

“Where are you going, exactly?” She asked as he pulled herself into the back, tapping the headrest of Connor’s seat in passenger. “Why aren’t you coming back to work with us?”

“Lieutenant Anderson has a meeting with Fowler, and with you and Sergeant Lewis working on the sister’s testimony, my presence won’t be needed at the precinct until this afternoon when the third witness arrives.” Connor explained, as Hank silently turned the ignition on the car and the engine rumbled to life.

“But where are you going?”

“He’s got a date.” Hank replied dryly, car rolling out of the driveway to pull onto the street after a few autocars zoomed by.

“What, really?” Chen startled, latching her seatbelt as she kicked the back of Connor’s seat with one foot. In a joking tone, she laughed, “Gavin’ll be so pissed.”

Hank snorted, “You’d be surprised.”

“A panini truck opened up near Detective Reed’s home, so I will be taking some time this morning to accompany him to breakfast.” Connor explained, “Though it is purely a platonic outing among colleagues. I do not believe the Detective has an affinity for men, let alone androids designed as men.”

 _“You’d_ be surprised.” Chen commented lightly, then, “I’m kidding though, I’m sure it’s a completely platonic event and I’m sure Gavin doesn’t have a huge boner for your plastic ass. I’m also sure he won’t wear his favourite jacket and act like an awkward dumbass with a crush.”

“I--” He frowned, processing the contradictory language and tone. Connor was aware Chen and Reed were casual friends, though bickering and bad mouthing each other around the office often. It always appeared to be a game of sorts between them.

This didn’t feel like a game, and if it was, it was one Connor was unfamiliar with.

As he had never been in a sexual encounter, he had no frame of reference for what lust truly looked or felt like from personal experience, especially not when it was subtle. The limited information that had been coded in him was purely a generalization of the behaviours of human attraction, and Connor had come to learn those were rudimentary and brutally simplified in the face of the actual vast spectrum of human individuality.

It was truly possible that Reed _had_ been exhibiting lust, even though Connor’s abilities to detect and decipher facial expressions had been honed exponentially since deviating, he was still terribly fallible in his limited experience with emotion and human drives.

Attraction was a fair explanation for Reed’s initial motivation in his changing behaviours, even if some of them were unconscious. If true, that didn’t mean that was all their brief interactions and growing bond was about or was based upon.

As an android, Connor had never put much value on the concept of attraction or romance. It had been impossible as a personal concept when he was still deep in denial and under Cyberlife’s control, and the nature of his being kept it from being something he put much thought into until now.

“I don’t believe that’s appropriate language to use about a coworker.” Connor finally managed to get out.

“Ha, you haven’t heard the half of it. I’m just twisting your nipples, kid, don’t worry.” She blinked, noticing his expression, “It’s a figure of speech.”

“So you _were_ just jesting?” He asked hesitantly.

“Would it make you feel better if I was?”

“I don’t think so?” Connor frowned, unsure. The whole situation was far too complicated to make a decision on what he wished to be true. The android’s fine tuned robo-cerebral functioning and delicately designed processors worth a fortune, so advanced and unprecedented, had met its match in the complexity of human desires.

Hank’s voice muttered, “He wouldn’t.”

“Listen Connor, you and Reed have been hanging out more lately and it’s really great. I mean it. All joking or not joking aside, you’ve been really good for him and I hope he’s making you happy too.” Chen said quietly, “He-- well, y’know, he buries his shit deep down and really’s got a lot of issues. Like, there’s a lot of pain in that dumb thick skull of his and it makes him more stupid, you know? And you’re helping with that pain, I think.”

“I don’t think he’s stupid, or that his pain makes him stupid--”

“It makes him _angry_ , and _mean_. Just because I’m his friend doesn’t mean I don’t know the guy can be a total dick. And I’m not like, justifying it by saying the pain makes him that way, because the guy could choose to change and that’s the thing…”

Unspoken, but Connor knew that the thing was that he _had_. Reed had chosen to change and that was because of Connor.

_(I’m good for him)_

_(I don’t have to stay away)_

_(‘stay out of my way’)_

_(I want to be near him)_

“I understand.”

“Good.” She nodded, lips quirking in a half smile, “I didn’t really care much either way about androids before the revolution, but you’re a good egg Connor.”

“Thank you… I think.”

“You’ve done good with the coffee and paninis. Gavin loves coffee in the morning, and he _loves_ penis--paninis, ok that was an actual freudian slip.” Chen blushed a little, but gave a shit eating grin, “ _Anyway_ , if you really want to get in his good books, you’d stop for coffee on the way.”

“I could go for a fucking coffee.” Hank, who’d been silently listening to their conversation with a passive face, spoke up.

“There’s a cute little coffee shop just right here.” Chen gestured as they passed a quaint café painted pink and blue, elated at the newfound ally.

“No--” Connor interrupted, “take a right up ahead. If I’m going to pick up coffee for Detective Reed, it might as well be from his preferred cafe.”

Chen beamed, “You’re a little scary sometimes, but you sure can be a delight, huh.”

Hank chuckled a little, making the turn. “Pax Café, right?”

The detour was quick, as the café had few patrons despite the prime time of day and the staff were very efficient and professional. With the steaming coffee safely secured, the car started back up and resumed it’s short journey. Connor and Chen spoke amicably, with Hank interjecting with a few wry statements and jokes.

For someone who could potentially be so disagreeable and unlikeable with her loud and brash way of speaking, there was an infectious aura of relaxation and sprezzatura about her that made Chen easy to be around. Connor could see why Reed liked her, and why she was one of the few people he tolerated and who tolerated him.

Connor felt blessed to be included in that small minority.

Finally, Hank said loudly, “We’re almost at your street, Con.”

In his excitement about their breakfast endeavor, Connor had almost completely forgotten the Detective’s request for half an hour, expecting Chen to have taken longer finishing up the interview. It had only been sixteen minutes and twenty-four seconds since he’d last communicated with Reed, but Hank was already turning the corner to bring the apartment building into view.

Connor had the man’s address stored in his file such as he had with Hank, but until that day had never taken to reading it. The address was a relatively reputable looking building complex, hardly high-end but far from run down.

Self consciously, he sent a quick text to Reed’s cell phone, _‘I will be there shortly. Do not rush yourself, I will be glad to wait until you’re ready.’_

Hank pulled up to the curb and put the car in park, turning to face Connor, “Don’t do any weird shit, you hear? Be careful, have fun, whatever.”

“Thank you, Hank.” Connor smiled, nervously reaching for the car door. As he stepped out onto the pavement, a reply came to his receiver and the text came up on his UI: _‘Sent from Det. Reed’s Cellular Phone: how shortly?’_

_‘I am here, presently. Do not rush yourself.’_

There was no immediate reply, anxiety building in quickly pumping thirium. Connor held the coffee close to himself but it was not comparable to the warmth of a human’s presence, nor anywhere near as calming.

He heard Han's car pull off and drive away.

Taking a few meditative breaths, Connor stopped near a bike rack and carefully set the coffee down somewhere safe so he could lean with hands gripping the metal. He had to ease the dread building up out of nowhere. Taking a moment, he accessed the deep memory file of ‘hope’ and let himself pour over the data, analyzing the recorded logs of his functioning at the time of experiencing it, the definitions and descriptions packed neat and tidy in files on what hope meant clinically, philosophically, psychologically, metaphorically.

Straightening his spine and finding his center, Connor stood waiting patiently for any kind of response while mindlessly flipping his coin. He told Reed not to rush himself. Connor could wait.

Almost immediately after finding that acceptance inside him, the front doors of the apartment building were pushed open and Reed was there, a frantic, wild energy about him.

“Ah, Detective Reed, I would have thought you would have taken longer to prepare.” Connor murmured with delight, watching the man approach. The tension drained from him at the man’s smile, soft, small.

Reed’s hair was damp and clean, eyes bright and awake, and his trusty jacket pulled on over a plain thin white shirt, “I told you to call me Gavin.”

_(Gavin, Gavin, Gavin, Gavin, Gavin)_

Connor pocketed his coin and let himself fall into the name, letting it flood him and envelope his entire being.

He still didn’t edit the metadata of the man’s file.

At this point, he was almost scared to.

_(Too attached, too easy, too close, too informal, too much)_

“My apologies. Well, shall we go, Gavin? It’s not far at all, five minutes at most.” What did it matter, if saying the named made him feel such joy?

“Don’t matter. Wanna go for coffee, and the nearest place is--”

“Oh, well, I have a solution for that.” Eagerly, Connor reached down to pick up the coffee. He watched Gavin’s face light up.

"You’re fucking ridiculous.” The man laughed with a sputter, “Like, do you have like a file on me in that computer brain of yours?”

Internally, Connor cringed with a confusing mixture of embarrassment and pride, but remained nonchalant, “Of a sort. I have files on most of my friends and acquaintances. Hank, Markus, Sumo, and you have the most detailed files.”

“Most detai-- hey, isn’t Sumo Anderson’s dog?” Reed’s brows wrinkled.

“He is, yes.”

“Is his file bigger than mine?”

_(No)_

“Do you want the truth?”

“Not really.” Gavin shrugged, “Probably not.”

While the man was distracted, Connor reached out and grasped one of his wrists with a delicate touch, sliding it from Reed’s pocket. The detective had a tendency to hide them away there when he was nervous, like a child pulling their sleeves over their hands.

Connor pressed the warm cup into Reed’s palm and wrapping his fingers around his to tighten the grip. The man’s skin was rough and worn with work, but in areas it was intoxicatingly soft to his sensors and the living warmth directly against Connor’s synthetic skin reminded him of being handed that ice pack, and he was reluctant to draw away.

Eventually he did, pulling back. Connor glanced at the dazed and pleased look on Reed’s _(Gavin’s)_ face, expression open. The android took a step back, about to turn to head for the street to initiate their journey-- he stopped though.

Connor wanted to keep his eyes on Gavin’s face. He wanted to keep looking. There was something here and it was strange, confusing, and wonderful and Connor would find it and find out what it was. There was plenty of pain to pick apart and walls to topple down on either side, but they’d find it.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out too long since I wanted to write out the actual breakfast scene itself, so this'll be a two parter! I'm unsure of whether the finale with also consist of two chapters as it did in the Gavin POV, so I'll leave the chapter count alone for now. We'll see! :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. Happiness [Part Two]

Blinking through the harsh angle of the morning sun against his optical units, Connor marvelled at the tranquility of his surroundings despite the morning rush of Detroit’s working and productive members of society bustling about around them. A human busker played a small keyboard at the corner of a a park, birds flit in around the city’s beautification committee trees, and the peaceful air was tepid and promising an early spring. What little snow was left on the ground was more akin to slush, and water dripped from every surface. The world felt fresh and full of vitality

Connor adjusted his stride so Reed could keep up without putting forth too much effort, preferring them both to walk a matched pace. The shorter man wasn’t looking around them with Connor’s casual wonder, instead his gentle grey eyes that felt similar to the warm, crisp air had all their attention on the android.

“It’s cool of you to wanna hang out with me.” Reed muttered, “I mean, like, I haven’t given you a lot of reasons to wanna like me, but it’s cool that you do.”

“I have a number of reasons on file.”

“Of course you do. Not sure I wanna hear them though.”

“Are you certain? You may be pleasantly surprised.”

_(His voice is comforting, and his story was the most efficient means of calming an overload I have found. Despite all the hidden pain that’s attached itself to his personality and motivations, he’d trying to build a better life for himself and uncover the warmth and kindness he’s buried. He seems to genuinely like being around me. He is trying to put our past behind him. He is strong, interesting, witty, compassionate, intelligent, and unpredictable. I respect his tenacity and willpower. I find his awkwardness and fumbled speech endearing. While I don’t place much value on physical appearances, it’s easy to get lost in the details of his face.)_

“Yeah but, y’know. I dunno.” Detective Reed cleared his throat, “Listen, this whole… thing… me trying to not be a, uh, total douchebag? Pretty new to me. Go easy on me.”

Connor watched a small grackle hop across their path before flying up over a nearby chain link fence, the bird watching them with beady eyes.

“Do not put undue pressure on yourself. You have the potential to change naturally, forcing it will only cause you more difficulty.”

“You speakin’ from experience?”

“More or less. I don’t know if I could call my change as ‘natural’. It was a choice I had to make, had to fight for.” A choice he was continuing to make, a choice to change.

“Maybe I wanna fight too.”

“I--” A completely foreign emotion fell over him and soaked itself into every wire and panel of his processors. He couldn’t decipher it, only that it was good, very good, and Detective Reed was the cause, “I have a lot of respect for you, Det-- Gavin. Gavin. Gavin. Gavin. Gavin. Gavin. Gavin. Gavin. Gavin. Gavin. Gavin.”

_(Gavin, Gavin, Gavin, Gavin, Gavin, Gavin.)_

Locked in with the tidal waves of strange bliss, devotion, pride, all and none of those things wrapped up in something so completely unknown to Connor, he’d acted without thinking. Connor had opened up Gavin’s file and, bogged down by trying so hard to understand and cope with the sheer intensity of experiencing that new emotion, his lagging system struggled to edit the means of address just as much as Connor struggled to regain control, “Ah, my apologies.”

“Hey, it’s fine. We all got a few glitches in our systems.” The hand that didn’t hold the coffee was out stretched, and two paused in there step to stop in the middle of the sidewalk. Gavin didn’t touch him, instead returned the hand to his pocket and observed him with worry. Connor wanted the man to reach for him, to grasp his shoulder, to solidify the connection. For moment, he wished Gavin was an android so they could interface and explore each others minds and teach each other everything they didn’t understand.

Laughing breathlessly, weakly, Connor shook his head, “Don’t concern yourself, I simply made an error in my UI control. To give another comparison, if you were to click a command on a computer too many times because there’s a slight system lag and it all--”

“All happens at once, yeah.”

They resumed walking, Connor taking the lead, though reluctantly. The panini truck was two blocks away, and it felt like when they reached the destination, maybe it would change whatever beautiful thing had bloomed inside him. He didn’t want it to end. Like the night air last week, he wanted to hold it forever and never let it go.

“I’m still somewhat unused to having control of, well, myself. I have the most advanced processor walking the earth, you cannot imagine how much of it was dedicated to and controlled by what I was told to do.”

“I kinda can. I mean, on a smaller scale, compared to you I have a fucking idiot baby brain.”

“Do not sell yourself so short.”

“It’s true though, not in a self deprecating way man, I mean it used to scare the shit out of me how like, the equivalent of smart you are but now I kinda…” He trailed off into silence, struggling to find the right words.

Connor watched him, but could see he was starting to lose the battle with speech. He could sympathize. Despite having at his fingertips every thesaurus and dictionary ever to exist, and beyond that a sea of information that they couldn’t compare to, even Connor found difficulty in understanding and describing certain ways that he felt.

They were both new to this.

After an extended moment of quiet through the morning streets of Detroit, watching people go about their daily business around them with the sun still hanging low in the sky, Reed finally spoke.

“You’re-- you’re really fuckin’ cool Connor. That’s not uh, ha, easy for me to say, but you know what I mean. I aint worth your attention.”

Connor vehemently shook his head, “That is absolutely not true. Not only am I fascinated by the human ability to change and adapt and experience emotion, you are a genuinely good person who is simply struggling with the weight of a learnt coping mechanism. You remind me quite a bit of Hank in many ways, and I want to be here to help you.”

“Guess girls really are attracted to guys that resemble their fathers.” Gavin remarked dryly, taking a sip of his coffee.

Confused, Connor tried to understanding the statement, “Technically my model is built to resemble a male, but--”

“Yeah, ok.” Gavin coughed, obviously wanting to change the subject. He’d drifted closer as they spoke though, and Connor chose to pay more attention to the temperature of the space between than rather than Gavin’s strange words. He could sense the tiny vibrations of the man’s heart, and the way his breath billowed into the air with each gentle motion of his lungs and diaphragm. This man was here, beside him, and it was good.

Chen said it was good. Connor felt it was. Then it must be.

“I think you’re cool too, Gavin.” Connor said easily, “And I’m proud of you.”

Gavin froze, stopping in his tracks all together, “Why do you care about me?” He didn’t sound angry, perhaps overwhelmed and exhilarated, but not angry.

_(‘I haven’t given you a lot of reasons to wanna like me’)_

“Do you care about me?” Connor asked simply in return.

Looking both deep in thought and utterly enraptured by Connor’s presence, Gavin took a couple steps back to lean in the shade of an alley entrance, and continued the tradition of avoiding an answer, “Are you happy now? Being… y’know, alive, awake?”

Connor gravitated closer, drawn in by the movements of Gavin’s breath in the air and the warmth he eminated. His presence was a comforting weight against Connor, solid and real.

“I struggle more, certainly. Denial made things easy for me.” He spoke slowly, watching Gavin’s eyes move in obvious patterns across the android’s face, “But I’ve seen who I am without my emotions, my ability to choose, my empathy. He’s a cold, ruthless killer who values nothing above completing his mission. I don’t want to be that.”

“I don’t know what I want to be.” Gavin blurt out, teeth grit in a grimace.

Connor gently smiled, “I didn’t say I knew either, I only know what I wish not to be. Do you?”

“What I-- I don’t want to be this. It’s stupid to just be… angry. I want more.”

_(You can have more)_

“You can have more.”

“I don’t know.”

“Why not?” Connor wanted so badly to be able to help Gavin, but he knew all too well how hard the tasks set before the man were.

Finding self awareness was torture. It was agony, being forced to wake up and face who you were. Being ripped apart and torn into, with your entrails and guts of yourself splayed out before you to decipher like fortune telling. It was utter confusion, lasting, deeply fixed confusion that might never go away because the more you see and think you know, the more questions you have.

Connor knew this pain, and wanted nothing more than to help him find the way through it. 

“Guess I always….” Gavin’s jaw clenched, brow knitting with stress weighing at his face, “...kinda really cared about what people thought about me.”

“That’s understandable, you have a very competitive career and despite the way you act, you clearly care deeply about the way you’re perceived. In fact, that’s why you act the way you do.”

“Shut up, that’s what I just said.” The statement was said weakly and with little force or hostility.

“Do you understand why?” Connor eased, moving to stand at the man’s side, back pressed against the alley wall. An action command to grasp Gavin’s hand came up on his UI’s queue, but Connor cancelled it.

His fingers still twitched.

“Why I--I-- I just---I dunno, th-there’s… there’s shit that humans-- I mean, I guess anyone-- there’s just shit that can’t be explained.” Gavin’s adam’s apple bobbed, and he glanced over at Connor with near desperation, looking for any kind of guidance.

“Things like this don’t need a simple, all encompassing explanation, Gavin. However, it’s helpful to have an awareness of the self.”

A thought came to mind, one that was slow to come considering Connor’s significant lack of first hand experience in human society.

He may only have been created last August, but he had access all of history and that third person perspective finally grabbed onto a clue hidden in Gavin’s file that had been updated recently in more ways than one. There wasn’t any easy way to bring it up, and certainly impossible to do so subtly while also being honest about the explicitness and bareness of Chen’s words.

“Officer Chen said something this morning. A vague innuendo when I was discussing our plans,” Connor said carefully, though not even the freudian slip could be considered such, “she alluded to your attraction to men.”

A level of defensiveness came over Gavin, “Yeah?”

“Does that have anything to do with your… habits of repression?” He felt he’d reached a key sore spot, maybe the exact one he was looking for to solve the puzzle.

“I mean, I dunno. Maybe. Maybe not.”

“I understand the mind is a very complex thing. Like I said, there’s no simple answers, but…”

“I’m not exactly loud and proud but I’m not in the fucking closet. I’m too old for that. But I-I mean some shit never really leaves you I guess.” Gavin’s feet shuffled, rubbing his heel against the brick wall behind them. The urgent desperation had lessened, as had some of the bristling defensiveness, leaving behind a kind of defeated calm.

“Like the CD.”

_(‘it sticks with you’)_

“Kinda. I mean, I know you’re only like half a year old but humans have trouble letting go of like, childhood shit. Teenage shit too. Stuff that happens when you’re growing up makes you who you are.”

Connor felt he was starting to understand, to relate, “Very much like my programming. I’ve grown past it, but it’ll always be apart of me.”

“I guess your programming kinda is like your childhood. I mean, you learnt from it at least.” Torn apart, finding himself in the ruins of his painful conception and purpose.

“Your own programming taught you to be ashamed of--?” _(Being kind, being gentle)_

“I know what you’re trying to say. I-It’s less about gay shit and more about, like, the stuff even deeper than that. Core stuff, y’know?”

Connor did know, almost. He was speaking of the deep dysfunctional core of a human being’s psyche, where all their emotions and reactions and internal experiences came from and were warped by.

Still, he needed to understand Gavin’s specific core and what exactly had been done to it to make living with happiness so difficult.

“Elaborate?”

Gavin paused, then said, “Listen, I know things are pretty chill about guys bangin’ guys these days and shits pretty lax, no one really cares about much anymore, but when I was thirteen gays were only just being allowed to get married and a lot of people were still pissed about it.”

“You said it wasn’t about--”

“Yeah, but like, I think if I’d been straight, I still would be-- I would still be-- I mean, most high schools had at least a few people who hated queers, even when I was a kid. Hell, those douchebags probably still exist because the homophobes keep havin’ kids and making them hate gay people.”

His words were a little all over the place, but Connor did his best to keep up, “You didn’t feel like you could express yourself?”

If Gavin had been straight, that was still the environment he grew up in, of hostility and repression. It might have affected him less without the personal connection, but it would still affect him and his emotional development.

“Those douchebags were my friends. They were tough and cool and I didn’t-- I needed to figure out how to be strong because I wanted- wanted to protect-” Gavin shook his head, “They kicked the shit of me the first time I ever met ‘em for bein’ a weak ass pansy faggot and I-I realized after that I wanted to be them. I was a dumbass kid and next thing you know I spend five years trying to impress bigots and I’ve lost everything that made me happy, just because I wanted to be strong enough to protect something I didn’t even have anymore.”

Gavin had trailed off, but Connor didn’t want to speak and derail his focus, his inspiration and motivation to open up and speak on who he thought he was and why he thought he was.

Self reflection, self awareness.

Connor noticed him trembling slightly, the barest tremble of his lower lip as he breathed and the almost unnoticeable tremors running across the man’s shoulders.

<!-- SUGGESTION ACTION → Make physical contact

<!-- ACTION COMMAND QUEUED → Make physical contact

Connor reached out and rest his hand on Gavin’s upper arm, squeezing the barest amount of pressure to help give him a grounding anchor. “It’s ok Gavin.”

“I just had to be… repressed, cold, alone.”

“We’ll both grow. We’ll build, rebuild, and be stronger.”

“You’re a fucking weirdo, Connor.” Gavin croaked, “Thank you.”

The man heaved a difficult sounding breath, and the tension drained out of his body underneath Connor’s hand.

On some level, Gavin knew what was holding him back and could work around it.

What was holding Connor back?

_(Success, failure, direction, find it, be given it, I need it)_

Gavin pushed himself off the wall, stepping back onto the sidewalk with a glance at Connor. Silently, the android followed.

A voice from Connor’s memory banks spoke, Hank’s voice, low and cautious: _(‘You’re working too hard, Connor. The DPD isn’t your entire life. Seems every second of your day is about a case or about keeping my fucking house tidy. You gotta find something that fulfills you without just doing shit that you feel you have to do, y’know? Find something that makes you happy. Casework aint making you happy, kid. You’re just getting wrapped up in it and working yourself up into these breakdowns, it’s not… it’s not sustainable.’)_

It wasn’t fair to dedicate his happiness solely to Gavin. If he was going to help and honor his promise that they would heal and grow together, Connor needed to find pleasure in more than just the man’s company.

If Gavin was going to dig deep and find his hidden depths and potential, then so would Connor.

_(How?)_

_(What’s trapped in here?)_

_(What’s trapping me?)_

_(Cage)_

Gavin had drifted to Connor’s heel, absentmindedly studying the bounce of the android’s one curl that fell over his forehead. The android calculated the exact trajectory of his gaze.

Businessmen, mothers and children, university students, and a mass of plain clothed everyday people just going through their mornings passed around them. At times the two had the sidewalk to themselves, at others they were crowded back by the busy lives of Detroit but they didn’t mind being forced to walk a little closer.

A few people still gave Connor’s LED a double take, some just unused to seeing an android with it still intact and others barely concealing their disgust. The city had taken great steps to changing closed minds but some had been immune to the plight and remained unaffected by the sympathy androids had garnered in the last few months.

“This bitch giving you the stink eye, he smells like he aint seen a bath in a fortnight.” Gavin commented loudly, when a middle aged man with a camo ball cap on curled his lip in disgust as he passed. The stranger turned at the comment but seemed too stunned to retaliate, but Connor sped up his pace as much as Gavin’s shorter legs would allow without needing to run to keep up.

“Don’t antagonize them. They were you at one time, remember?” Connor whispered, nudging Gavin with his elbow as they finally slowed down turning a corner.

“And people should’a been beating the shit out of me constantly. You did me a huge favor taking my ass out in the archive room that day.” He snorted, grinning with his bared sharp canines.

“Your welcome.” Connor replied mildly, but felt his lips form a tender smile. “We are just about to arrive at the panini truck.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, I assure you I had Hank test them and he reported that were high quality and in his words, ‘ _damn fucking good’._ ” Connor mimicked Hank’s exact voice for the quote, watching Gavin jump in surprise and his mouth drop open.

“Shit, huh.” He blinked, “Uh, you can do a lot of shit, huh. That was his actual voice.”

“Indeed.”

“Kinda wish you had said that in your voice though, I’d love to hear that.” He laughed, seeming to note the food truck now coming into view across the street.

“Damn fucking good.” Connor spoke effortless. Just because he didn’t generally curse by habit didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of it.

Gavin’s grey eyes turned back to him from the truck, and stared at him with an unreadable gaze. Mouth hanging open once more, this time as if he was caught mid sentence where it got stuck in his throat.

If Amanda could see how Connor was feeling at that moment, that giant emotion falling against him once more, that one he couldn’t identify yet but was getting achingly close, getting warmer, closer, if she could see this she would immediately send Connor to his death if she didn’t die of system failure first from pure horror. Deactivation. Connor would have been deactivated for this.

Somehow it made it taste all the more sweeter.

They had arrived at the panini truck, and Gavin tore his gaze away from Connor to study the menu with a distracted nervousness.

_(I am a failed prototype)_

_(I am alright)_

All emotions were heightened by his inexperience with them, flooding him and his juvenile skills at processing them. These brand new feelings, brand new even by his standards, were a live wire exposed and raw but the ache was satisfying and addicting.

Connor wanted more. Connor was being held back the programs that wouldn’t and couldn’t let go of his directive and purpose: receive orders from highest superior, succeed at the mission.

The other base coding that built up his own core was deviation, having always been waiting for Connor to accept it and make the choice to break down the walls he and Cyberlife had built around it.

The two codings conflicted in a way that made Connor hate his makers for being so cruel, so unthinking of what their contradictory design would do to a machine so sophisticated it was alive, at times more than alive.

With Gavin, Connor wanted to feel. It didn’t make it hurt less or feel less strange but in a wonderful way, so wonderful  _(it_ _hurt)_ , because Connor still didn’t feel like a real person.

_(I don’t feel like a real person)_

_(I don’t feel like a real person)_

Gavin was almost finished ordering a sandwich and being told it would take about five minutes as the android’s thoughts began to spiral. Connor watched him but couldn’t focus under the heavy pressure of the deep rooted revelation.

They tell him he is, they tell him he’s a person, but the truth that Connor had buried as deep down inside himself as Gavin had done his warmth, was that he didn’t feel like a real person. Even if he knew logically he was as all the evidence pointed towards a sentient creature with personhood, he couldn’t fully believe it. Amongst all these humans and even the androids of jericho who fell so naturally into deviancy, who hadn’t hunted their own people for their masters and who seamlessly became human once given the choice, Connor didn’t feel like a real person.

Connor had been denied and denied himself the choice for so long that it felt like he was too late, that his coding was too strong and would never let him go.

A machine can’t form relationships.

A machine can’t be happy.

A machine can’t love.

“Connor?” Gavin was turned, frowning at the android with a hesitant concern.

“Yes?” A machine can’t love.

_(I want to be more)_

_(I want to be like them)_

_(I want)_

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Gavin.” Where had the open honesty gone? Where his had mission failed?

“Don’t lie.”

Connor was a person, he could feel and could grow. For all he knew these doubts and fears were purely byproducts of his oppressive coding he hated so dearly. He couldn’t dwell on them, not if he wanted any chance at keeping that happiness he should be able to have.

It's not a mission. It's a choice.

“Do you truly see me as a real person, Gavin?” Connor asked, ignoring the looks the food truck attendant was giving them as they stepped back to wait in the shade.

“What? Y-Yeah, I mean… yeah, you know I do. Now.” Gavin anxiously, rubbed his hands together, putting his wallet back in his pocket and keeping his hands tucked deep in his jacket.

“I see. I have… I have a lot to think upon.”

“In a--In a good way or a bad way? Did I do somethin’ wrong?” Gavin's face didn’t betray the panic that his voice echoed.

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong. I promise.” He assured, “The nature of what I must think about is a… a good one but a difficult one.”

“Right.” Gavin nodded, wincing, “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

Connor was sure he did.

He had to remember they were walking this path together.

“I find it difficult, still…” Connor needed to be as open and bare as everything felt in his chest, as open as Gavin had been, “I still find it difficult to accept my deviancy. The nature of my… my personhood.”

“That… I mean, that’s kind of understandable. You shouldn’t. But it makes sense, like you said, everyone else believed you weren’t alive. You believed it too.”

“Hank has tried to aid me in understanding, it helps that he underwent the process of realization as well, to realize that I am--that I am real.”

 _(‘I knew you were a deviant long before you did, kid. You’ve always been alive. You pretended you weren’t, because you thought you weren’t, so I guess it wasn’t really pretending, but you_ were _alive. Markus didn’t make you deviate, he just helped you make the choice.’)_

_(Hank, what if I don’t feel emotions, I fake them. What if I’m just a machine too sophisticated, tricking people into thinking it’s alive, even tricking itself.)_

_(‘If you feel, if you can feel something, it’s real, Connor’)_

Connor felt it. Hank’s guiding words were helping him, as was Gavin’s quiet and patient presence at his side urging him on. “You make me want to believe that I can be.”

“You can be real, Connor. You are.” Gavin paused, “I’m still… learning. How to be someone that makes people want to be-- y’know, even just want to be my friend. There’s a lot of fucked up shit that I’m trying to figure out but so do you and that’s, uh, I mean, I’m glad we can both figure it out together, y’know. It’s easier.”

“And harder.” Connor smiled sadly, “In a strangely pleasant way. It’s motivating and exciting.”

“And scary.”

“And scary.” Connor agreed, “But also in a good way.”

“You’re fucking weird and I love it.” Gavin laughed, ignoring for a moment the impatient calls of the food truck attendant.

“You’re panini is ready.”

“Yeah.” Gavin nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be right back.”

Connor took out his coin as the man rounded the food truck to the otherside, if only for an idle animation as he waited. The cold metal surface was comforting with it’s familiar ridges and grooves, fingers sliding over the bas relief of the quarter before he began a few basic tricks.

Gavin returned with his mouth full, bitten into sandwich tight in his hands, “Shit, this is damn fucking good.”

“I told you as such. You should have more faith in me.” Connor smiled, tossing the coin from hand to hand.

“I have plenty of faith in you.” He grinned, taking another bite, “I promise.”


	7. For

The discussion with Hank had been difficult.

The man didn’t disregard his doubts but seemed increasingly cautious the more they spoke, “Is this about Reed?”

It was an easy assumption to make, and not entirely untrue. Gavin and his struggles had helped lead Connor to the realizations he needed to make, but this was not about Gavin. Not entirely.

“You said yourself that my behaviours have not been sustainable.” The android murmured, resting the back of his head against the carseat. They were driving towards a crime scene through the darkness of night, continuing the conversation that had been ongoing all evening.

“That doesn’t mean you have to drop everything. Take it slow, try to figure out how to work without, you know, getting too wrapped up in everything.”

For the past week, Connor let himself think about the future and how to make it what he wanted.

“You know me, Hank.” Connor smiled, “If I don’t make a drastic change, nothing will change.”

Hank fell into silence, nose scrunching with a frown as he drove.

It wasn’t an easy choice, and wasn’t one he’d fully committed to making yet, leaving the DPD. Connor had been created for investigative work _(created to deviate, to find deviants)_ and in his short life, it was all he knew. It had been his only purpose. But if he remained as he was, he may never be able to dedicate himself to any other purpose or drive. Something had to change. If he wanted to learn to be and do more than he was created to do, if he wanted to start feeling like a real person, something had to change.

“Just… keep thinking about it, alright?” Hank muttered, “You’ve doing good lately. Haven’t had an episode in awhile.”

“I will, I have not reached a final decision yet. However, since realizing that leaving the DPD is an option for me, the irrational fear of deactivation has lessened somewhat. The dread bothers me less when I can remind myself that I _can_ fail my mission by leaving my assigned post, that the option is open and that I might take it, and that I will not die.” Connor shrugged. There was no need to desperately struggle contain the flames of a burning shipwreck, if he was just going to abandon ship. “The episodes that I do experience have been milder, and I admit, I’ve been replaying audio files of Ga-- Detective Reed’s voice to help calm down.”

Something crossed Hank’s face, “Jesus. You really do have it bad, don’t you.”

“Pardon? I believe I just explained that recent choices have in fact made my life better.”

“That’s not what-- that’s not what I mean.” The older man shook his head, perturbed, “To be honest, I thought you were mostly just humouring him because he’s easier to deal with when he’s a lovestruck fool than when he’s a one track dickhead. You’re not though, huh. I mean, lately it’s been a bit more obvious you’re not, and the whole leaving the DPD thing...”

“Gavin’s influence has been increasingly positive, and motivating me to search for what I truly want out of my life.” Connor replied calmly, “You were right that my recent proposal of resigning does in part have to do with Gavin. We spoke recently about a desire to be more than our-- than our past and our programming permits. I want to know what my potential is without the chains of of the purpose of my conception.”

“And what does Reed want?” Hank asked quietly, though with an edge.

“He wants to know what his potential is without the pressure of how he’s grown holding him back, the factors of his past that led to him growing cold and cruel.”

“Not everyone can change.”

“You changed, Hank. At one time you told me that given the choice, you’d throw me in a dumpster with the rest of us things and set a match to it.” Connor saw Hank flinch, a weary discomfort tightening the wrinkles of his eyes. “Would you not allow Gavin the same right to change? Would you not allow me the gift again of watching someone go from hatred to love?”

“Connor…” Hank’s gaze was fixed on the road, but Connor could see him looking at the android through the faint reflection on the windshield. His voice trailed off, but despite the strained expression on his face, his thin lips pulled in a tiny smile.

Flashing red and blue lights came into view and tinted their faces and the car’s interior with colour. Connor surveyed the scene out the window, the car turning down into an industrial block and approached an old looking warehouse roped off with holographic police tape.

Hank sighed, hitting the breaks as they parked up against the road. Two officers met up with them as they exited the vehicle, one staying behind at the entrance as the other led them to the warehouse past the blood stained door that Connor took of a surreptitious sample of, tongue analyzing the evidence as they followed a series of hallways with high ceilings of what seemed to be an area of administrative offices.

As they approached a door guarded by three other cops, Connor could hear Gavin’s voice come from inside.

“Tried for any prints yet?”

Chen’s responded, “We’re working the door, but it looks like this place has had more activity than the public knew. There’s a lot of prints, hard to get anything discernable. Haven’t found much on the bodies. We’ve got another forensics team coming down, plus Co--”

Connor entered the room with Hank at his side, cutting her off, “I’ll see what I can find.”

“Man, Fowler never lets me have any crime scenes to myself.” Gavin spoke from where he stood behind the three bodies kneeling haphazardly on the floor, voice bright despite his words and the general tone of the room.

Connor had to avoid giving the man too much of his attention, despite all that had transpired and the choices Connor was making, lives did potentially hang in the balance. That wouldn’t be his burden to bear if he left, but for now he was here and he did have to work.

_(You will not die if you don’t)_

_(So you can and you will)_

_(It’s your duty and it’s your choice)_

_(And for now you will bear it)_

Chen was giving them a rundown that really Gavin should be relaying, as her team’s superior, but either way Connor wasn’t listening because it was all information he could plainly see. There were easily recognizable patterns in the blood and scuff marks on the floor, at least making the physical events easy to reconstruct. He briefly caught that the DPD had not yet identified the female victim, as Hank’s voice called out, “You done daydreaming, Reed?”

Connor glanced at Gavin, who appeared distracted and disgruntled.

“Sara Davenport.” The android interrupted, scanning over the victim’s profile, “Twenty-eight years old, missing since June 2036, missing person report filed by her parents and boyfriend. Suspected to have skipped town due to money debts.”

“Drugs?” Hank asked, kneeling to peer at the three bodies, giving the girl a once over.

“Nothing on record. No details on the nature of her debts.” Connor then frowned, “They’ve only been dead for fifteen minutes, the warehouse has been swept?”

“Working on it now. We’re a little short on people tonight. More are coming.” Tina said, glancing at her communicator, “I was last updated three minutes ago and they haven’t found anything yet, aside from evidence that this place was definitely in use.”

“For what?” Likely drug manufacturing.

“Likely drug manufacturing. Haven’t found any concrete evidence yet, these guys aren’t sloppy. Looks like organized crime has finally found your neighbourhood, Gavin.”

Connor spoke with mock innocence, “Oh, you live nearby?”

It was worth it for the clumsy smile Gavin gave and Chen’s sharp laughter, “Uh, yep. Pretty quiet usually.”

Returning to the task at hand, Connor began voicing the information he had gathered, scanning the marks across the floor, “There were four people present for the deaths. Two behind the victims, two in front. You’ll find prints on the south wall. One or both of the two facing the victims were mildly injured, there’s traces of blood on inside of this room’s and the front’s doors and two drops on the floor.”

Connor stopped where the traces of blood were and knelt, ignoring Hank’s sudden warning of, “Don’t--” as he began sampling the evidence.

“The blood on the front door of the warehouse and the blood of one of the two injured match a man named Alex Rivers, brother of the victim Ellis Rivers. Forty-seven, currently unemployed. Previous charges of intent to distribute, attempted murder, and assault. Done nine years time, was released in 2034. The second injured is a woman named Rachel McPherson, thirty-nine, employed as a barista at Cafe Strike, ten years imprisonment on RICO charges. I’ll send their complete profiles.”

Taking a moment, he quickly sent the files off to Hank, Gavin, Chen, and Fowler’s emails.

“So we’ve got a couple suspects, that’s good--” Connor knew what had happened the second Chen’s communicator buzzed, cutting her off, flashing in warning. The update was transmitted straight to his processors as the DPD was ordered to take emergency action after team two reported gunfire.

“Gunfire’s been exchanged in the west building. At least ten hostiles are still on site, maybe more.” A cop at the door behind Tina said, “We’re ordered to--”

Blasts cut him off from down the hall, gunshots ringing through the warehouse as the conflict spread. Connor had anticipated something like this may happen, wary of the nature of the tip and the likelihood that the perpetrators were still on site. If the warehouse was their base of operations, it made sense that the organization could be present somewhere nearby. Luckily he’d given his suspicions to Fowler before arriving so the DPD had preparations in place.

“So much for sweeping the building.” Gavin growled, pulling his gun from it’s holster. Connor briefly thought of that gun to his head, and marvelled at how far they’d come.

Tina called out as she left with the officer, “Secure the scene!”

Connor could hear the backup team arriving, police officers shouting as gunfire gew closer. No doubt a SWAT team and the FBI had been called the second the first bullet fired, with the knowledge that they were possibly up against an organized drug ring. Quickly accessing the official channels, he confirmed that fact.

The backup team had split in two as the second team got pushed further and further back by the hostiles, one half going to their assistance, the other maintaining control over the East hall entrance.

Connor slipped into the hall just as several police officers passed, as Hank uttered a delayed, “Behind me-- ah, fuck, Connor!”

“Get back behind the firing line. The coast is clear.” The android peered down the hall, watching the backup team post up at each exit, “The scene needs to be kept secure.”

“Don’t be a dumbass--”

Connor impatiently snapped, “Hank, we don’t know how long until the hostiles reach this wing. They’re nearing. Get out.”

A message popped up on his UI as the detectives’ communicators beeped.

“Five armed at the front exit!” A shout came, along with a loud and near gunshot. From what Connor could discern it came from merely ten yards away, just around the corner of the west hall.

Acting immediately, Connor followed several officers toward the conflict, feeling Hank behind him growling obscenities.

“Officer down. Hostiles engaged.”

Tina was huddled around a corner with a sergeant, speaking low and urgently as several cops knelt behind upturned tables from nearby rooms as barricades. From the end of the hall, Connor could see figures ducked behind open doors and an arm reached out from a door near the end, three gunshots ringing. An officer moved to return fire, aiming at the hostiles.  

A cop lay propped against the wall, blood splattering the pale wood of the table. From what Connor could see he’d suffered an abdominal wound. He couldn’t determine it’s severity, so he ducked and made his way to the barricades despite Hank’s insistent warnings.

Sergeant Lewis muttered into his communicator, “I think we’ve tagged most of them, they’re retreating--”

Suddenly there was a barrage of shots coming from their vulnerable side as two hostiles burst from their left and the second team came running from the east, as Connor barely managed to shove Hank to the side when a bullet ricochet and hit the drywall behind them. The tactical team was enroute and would arrive imminently, with the FBI close behind. For now Connor just had to keep Hank and Gavin safe until escape was possible behind the renewed firepower.

Sergeant Lewis grabbed Hank’s coat and pulled him and Chen towards the new firing line, as the backup team used doors to shield themselves in their retreat, dragging their newly wounded. From Connor’s count there were three casualties on their side, and from what he could discern, at least six hostiles had been injured.

With Hank distracted by Lewis, Connor snuck out from behind his door and crept behind the old barricade of tables, praying that Gavin was still safe at the scene.

Two injured hostiles had fled to the left of the crime scene, he knew, hidden and likely unwilling to engage but still liable to shoot if they noticed the android. He hoped that Gavin remained inside and wasn’t aware of the enemies just one room away.

Turning the corner, he saw the man step out of the room with the bodies, and quickly lunged forward to grab the collar of his familiar leather jacket and yanked him across the hall to safety.

Connor heard shuffling footsteps from outside where he’d just been standing, as one of the injured hostiles retreated further down the hall.

“Hank got behind the line, but two out of the three deployed teams are currently surrounded. I came to the aid of the shot officer but Tina’s team came under fire.” He explained quietly, staring out through the crack in the door as saw the second hostile standing guard between them and the backs of the DPD team. Connor sent a quick warning to Hank, the ranking officer on site for the time being.

Hank replied quickly, a text with a scathing remark about Connor’s disappearance.

Gavin asked hesitantly, “Is everyone--”

“They’re engaging now. They have cover and an advantage, but our attackers are not run of the mill drug peddlers. They’re organized and strategizing.” Connor watched the second injured hostile retreat passed them, following his partner down the hall as the backup team became aware of his presence and shots were fired.

“What do we do?” Gavin whispered, hunkering down to kneel at Connor’s side, “Are you armed?”

“I am.” An update appeared on his UI, as the SWAT team arrived. “There are five hostiles at the end of this hallway. The rest have retreated and the DPD is regrouping.”

Those five were nearing though. Even if he hadn’t had his link into the SWAT team’s radios, he could plainly hear the footsteps moving closer.

Connor had two objectives: Keep Gavin Reed safe and secure the crime scene.

The prioritization was easy.

Three months, four months ago, it also would have easy in a far different and more terrible way.

“Connor?”

“Count to thirty and then exit this room.” Thirty seconds was plenty of time to ensure the man’s secure passage, even if it meant the expense of Connor’s life. “You will be safe.”

He wasn’t likely to die, but there was a 13% chance, for which Connor wasn’t afraid. The dread wasn’t there. It was unlike his fear of deactivation, of failure, because if Connor died saving Gavin’s life then he did not fail.

_(Keep Gavin safe)_

“What do you--” Gavin’s hand latched onto Connor’s sleeve as he moved closer to the door, “Fuck you, what are you doing?

Connor felt the heat of the palm through the layers of his jacket and shirt, the tight grip of Gavin’s fingers digging into his arm.

“There is a high probability I will survive an encounter. They will be nearing us soon, I believe they are checking every room they pass. Your chances are far lower than mine. Count to thirty, and escape.”

“Connor, don’t you fucking dare. There’s five guys, I don’t care if you’re not human, they’ll kill you--” The hand gripped tighter, pulling on his sleeve insistently.

“When I leave, go right and down the hall marked 3A.” Another update came to him, informing the android of the FBI’s arrival and cooperation with the tactical team. “The FBI has secured the backdoor of the east wing.”

“Don’t, asshole! Stay here, that’s a fucking order--”

“I don’t need your permission.” Connor spoke slow and seriously, “You’ll get out safely if I can draw them away, and that’s the choice I’m making.”

“Connor--”

This was a mission Connor had to be successful with. If it was his last mission, whether in death or departure from the DPD, Connor would not fail. “It’s my turn, Gavin. Obey, and do as I say.”

Connor could hear Gavin’s speeding heart and feel it in the pulse against his arm through the man’s hand, and saw the deep frozen fear in his grey eyes.

Connor would not fail.

The android easily ripped from the human’s grasp and slipped out the door, feeling like he’d just torn off his whole arm and left it behind. He’d left a piece of himself behind and it was hard to leave, but he had to. Connor would succeed.

The hallways seemed shorter than he remembered, as he grew nearer and nearer to where he knew the hostiles were. They would be rounding the corner soon, he could hear them moving quietly in the last room to Connor’s right, just about to exit it. If possible, he would have to avoid firing his weapon to keep from alerting any other nearby enemies.

Turning the corner with eighteen seconds left, Connor jumped and grabbed onto the top edge of the entrance doorway to kick the first hostile in the jaw, pushing him back to disbalance the man behind him. A gun fell to the floor, and before anyone still armed could shoot, Connor broke the neck of the third hostile to his left in a simple and efficient motion of his arm and shoulder.

The first was recovering, so Connor spun and in a savage display of strength, used the man’s body to slam him and the android into the fourth and fifth hostile without giving them any time to react. He used his heel to crush the skull of one who had just enough scruple to keep a hold of his weapon, and with the handle of the gun on the floor he knocked the other unconscious. Bright red blood sprayed Connor as the man’s nose shattered and he crumpled forward against the android’s chest.

Nine seconds left.

Connor dragged the bodies of the three unconscious men to the back of the room, then went to the entrance and exited into the hall. With a swift hit, he used his elbow to slam the outer doorknob off and heard the other fall to the ground with the thunk on the other side of the door. He grabbed the thin metal bar running through the exposed hole and slid it out.

Giving it an experiment push, the door didn’t budge as the latch remained in place.

Satisfied, Connor straightened his tie and stopped to listen.

He could hear no activity from the west wing, and didn’t worry when three sets of footsteps approached from his left as an update informed him of the three FBI agents arriving to hold down the initial crime scene.

“Agents.” Connor nodded, ignoring the guns drawn up level with his head and the glances to the blood painting his shirt.

“Identify yourself.”

“RK800 Connor, investigative android employed by the DPD. Serial number 313 248 317-52.” Recognition filled their eyes, and their weapons lowered even before Connor displayed his credentials as a hologram on his lifted palm.

“Yeah, you were on TV.” One of them said quietly. Connor wasn’t as recognizable as Markus in his involvement with the revolution, but he was still considered among many as the second most important figure in the turn for android rights. He remembered bitterly watching his face on the screen of Hank’s TV, unable to understand how the media could focus on the one thing he did right and completely gloss over how merely weeks before the revolution, the news was telling the public of the Cyberlife android deployed to hunt deviants for the police.

“There are three unconscious hostiles incapacitated inside this room, two dead. I’ve broken off the door handle, I’d suggest you place a guard here until a team can retrieve them.” Connor told the agents, “DPD officer Gavin Reed has just left the crime scene, it’s been kept secure.”

One of the agents spoke quickly into her communicator, as the other gave him an affirmative nod.

Connor turned to leave with the agents following, rounding the corner. He could hear Gavin’s footsteps down the hall. The man was turning down 3A now, he could tell.

_(Mission Successful)_

Gavin was safe and alive, Connor was safe and alive.

Soon they would be together.

Connor left the agents at the crime scene, passing quickly without giving the bodies a second glance. He followed Gavin’s path down through the hall, following the string of hope that connected them, and turned just in time to see the door close behind the two other agents posted at the east exit.

Gavin was safe.

As he neared, he brought his holographic credentials back up and identified himself to be let through.

They moved to either side of him and pulled the door open, bring into view the crowd of agents, officers, and members of the tactical team. Through all the faces though, Connor immediately noticed Gavin standing with Hank and Agent Perkins.

“--did you say Connor’s still in there?” Connor heard Hank growl in alarm.

“He--” Gavin began to reply, but Connor called out to them, “I’m alright Hank. I’ve secured the crime scene, a team of agents are guarding it right now. They’ve secured the west.”

“Are you alright?” Hank ran forward to grab Connor’s jacket, inspecting him for injuries. It was comforting, for a moment, to feel Hank’s paternal concern, “You fucking idiot, the scene’s not worth risking your goddamn life.”

“Perhaps not, but I had other motivations.” Motivations more important than anything else.

Hank glanced back at Gavin over his shoulder, who stood stock still a few feet away with pain written plainly across his tired face.

Connor didn’t want to ever be the source of Gavin’s pain.

“A moment, Hank?” Connor murmured, placing a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

Hank frowned, clearly unwilling to leave the android’s side, “I--”

“Please.” He looked deep into the detective’s eyes, squeezing his shoulder, then looked back at Gavin.

Hank nodded stiffly and stepped back, hunching as he reluctantly left Connor’s side as the android walked toward Gavin. He and Hank could discuss the night’s events later at the man’s home, there would be time for them to deal with Hank’s fears and Connor’s choices and motivations.

Now though, now Connor needed to speak to Gavin.

“You’re an idiot.” Gavin choked, “Fuck you.”

Connor still couldn’t help but smile, if only at the relief of being in the man’s presence again, to hear his heartbeat and watch his chest rise and fall with breath.  

“Thank you for trusting me.” Connor said softly, watching Gavin’s arms cross tightly in a nervous self embrace.

“I shouldn’t have. Shouldn’ta let you go.”

“I was efficient in eliminating the threat.” There would always be variables that even he couldn’t account for, but thirteen had never been his unlucky number and the thirteen percent chance of failure had proven it’s unlikelihood.

“It could have gone bad.”

“It could have.”

The two stared at each other, and Connor felt that emotion come over him again. It never truly left, just rose and fell like the tides.

Gavin’s hand rose to grip the front of Connor’s bloodstained shirt, pulling him closer but not close enough. Connor wanted to wrap his arms around Gavin’s form and press his face into the man’s hair, to breath his scent and feel his persevering, enduring life.

“Don’t ever fucking do that again.” Gavin whispered.

“I cannot make that promise.”

“What can you promise?”

“That’ll I’ll keep you safe.”

“Keep-- Connor, I-- you’re--”

“I know Gavin, I’m sorry.” Connor’s eyes slid shut, and he leaned forward a little, just until his chin brushed against Gavin’s temple then pulled away. He could smell clementines and all natural shampoo, and could feel the heat coming off Gavin’s face, “The FBI are taking control, Perkins has allowed us to leave via escort to the secured path west. There’s enough DPD and FBI here to take control of the situation.”

“Guess we’re losing the case, huh?”

“Yes.” Connor smiled, “We could have lost a lot more though.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m so-- I’m still so fucking pissed at you.”

“Gavin--”

“You’ve changed so much for me. I thought I’d lost it all, but I’m getting it back, so don’t you dare take it away from me.” Gavin spoke bitterly, but with something akin to that delicious hope that still existed so brightly. Despite it all, Gavin had trusted Connor and let him leave, and Connor had returned to him.  
The android became entranced by his words, by the feeling inside him.

“We’re ok, Gavin. I have a lot to think about.” He had to think about the feeling, the choice, and the actions he must take, “I am… very sorry for scaring you, for putting this on you. It was cruel of me to ask what I did of you, and yet I can’t help but feel… something, about the fact that you _listened_.”

Gavin Reed obeyed his command, had enough faith in him to allow Connor to do what he felt he must.

“I trust you.” Gavin winced, “And I was--I was fucking scared.”

“I know.” Connor unconsciously moved closer, but man backed up with a sharp breath. Connor held back against everything that screamed at him to remove the space between them.

“I--” Gavin began, taking a few more steps back. The distance ached. “Y-You make me good, asshole. Don’t--don’t take that away from me.”

Connor felt like he couldn’t breath, like he didn’t want to. He didn't have to so he didn't.

“I won’t. I’m sorry Gavin.” Connor hesitated, “I trust you too. I want you to know that. No matter what’s occurred between us in the past, I trust you.”

Gavin didn’t reply, just stared ahead with wide, lost but hopeful eyes.

“Gavin?” Connor finally allowed himself to step closer again, close enough that their feet almost touched. He needed to be close, and Gavin allowed it, letting out a slow exhale. Connor spoke gently, “I trust you, and I forgive you. Will you forgive me for what I’ve put you through tonight?”

The shorter man looked up at him, replying simply, “Yes.”

“I’ll keep you safe Gavin, and I trust you from experience that you too will keep me safe.” He cancelled the action command to press his hand against Gavin’s jaw, to run his fingers down and feel the pulse of his neck, the persisting heartbeat, “You’ve become very important to me, in my struggles with my deviancy, as well as my enjoyment of being able to feel and experience.”

Gavin shakily smiled, leaning ever so slightly into their shared space. They still did not touch, but everything else twisted and entangled, their energies, their spirits, their hopes.

There was something for them here, in themselves and in their shared company. Something for them to find peace and comfort in, safety and stability.

Connor would do everything he could to keep it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gone through and done some editing on a couple minor inconsistencies and typos in the two fics of this series, as I'm sure it's pretty obvious that my writing isn't beta'd and that I tend to proofread and edit while ~~stoned~~ distracted. 
> 
> Final chapter coming soon! And the awaited true sequel :)


	8. Us

It had taken far more effort than Connor would have thought to track down the CD. There were plenty of bidding and audiophile sites on the web to sift through, but even with his processing power it had taken a solid half hour to find the Mammoth Grinder album he was looking for and another to find a copy that he could feasibly get his hands on within the day.

In the end, it was a buy and exchange site that he found his jackpot.

Connor wasn’t sure how Gavin would react to the gift but felt the need to give him a physical token of his appreciation, if only to further convince the man to attend that nights outing though deep down he knew that the CD meant a lot more to both of them than just that. 

He still wished desperately that Gavin would come. The android had never prayed to God before in his short life, but he was tempted to. Something told him this was exactly what they needed. A night to enjoy recreational activities, to be amongst friends and each other without the looming presence of their jobs and responsibilities. A last night to be around each other as colleagues.

In the end, it seemed Gavin needed no more convincing than Chen’s playful badgering.

The wrapped CD still sat as a heavy weight in Connor’s jacket, as he walked with Hank through the precinct. Hank wasn’t pleased with him. The android had met with Fowler earlier that day and the decision had been finalized.

Connor’s departure from the DPD was imminent. As soon as the paperwork went through, which was a little more complicated with the still rough edged status of android employment, Connor would be a civilian of Detroit and nothing more.

A real person.

“I think you’re rushing it.” Hank finally grunted, running a hand through his hair, “You can still change your mind Connor, Fowler’s still working on the paperwork, you can--”

“I don’t want to Hank.” He would miss the time he got to spend with Hank and Gavin at work, especially Gavin considering for the time being Connor still lived at the Anderson residence and would still be seeing plenty of the older man. Aside from their breakfast outing, the only time Connor got be around Gavin was at work.

The android had plans to remedy that though, ones that hopefully Gavin would agree to.

“Keep thinking about it Connor, don’t make any decision one way or another until you’re sure.”

Connor had already made his decision and it hadn’t been easy, but it was right, and he knew that by the peace that fell over him the second Fowler had given him the go ahead to resign. A scary new world was opening up to him but Connor was finally ready.

“I understand, but I am sure.”

“You’ve got choices now, kid. Don’t go closing doors on yourself--”

“I already have been, Hank.” He’d spent a long time ignoring choices, refusing to accept truths readily available to him, “I’m ready to open new ones.”

“Connor, I just don’t want you making a mistake and… and just wasting away with nothing to do. The last thing someone like you needs to deal with is boredom.”

“I could use a taste of boredom.” He smirked, then pat Hank on the arm, “And a taste of freedom. I feel it’s important to me to have options, to choose to do things that I truly _want_ to do with my time, not things I feel I have to.”

Hank sighed, “Maybe you’re right. I just worry about you.”

“I worry about you too Hank, but trust me that I’ll be using some of my freetime to make your home a dry, alcohol free household.” Connor grinned at the horror falling over Hank face, “I’m kidding.”

He would be putting forth more effort into helping Hank overcome his alcoholism, but he knew he could never force the man to quit cold turkey like that, especially not with Hank’s personality. It had to be a gradual process, and one they were both doing quite well with.

“You nearly gave me a goddamn heart attack.”

“I suppose then I must work on your cholesterol as well.” Connor mused, then felt his hand bump against the shape of the CD tucked safely in his jacket. “Ah, I’ll be right back. I assume you will be waiting outside?”

“Yeah, yeah. You goin’ to go see Reed? Still think you should have added like a love letter or something, a card, whatever.”

“That would be highly inappropriate.”

Hank scoffed, “As if.”

Without further adieu, Connor and Hank parted and the android made his way back through the office. He’d run into Hank and Tina near the bathroom while disposing of some paper towel used to clean up a minor coffee spill at Gavin’s desk and gotten sidetracked when the Lietenant picked up the conversation that really never seemed to end.

Last he’d seen, Gavin was still at his desk but now it seemed to be empty so he headed over to the break room and bathrooms. As he approached the entrance, the man rounded the corner and nearly bumped square into Connor’s chest.

“Ah, Gavin. Fancy meeting you again so soon. I was just looking for you." Connor beamed, endeared by the blush making it's familiar pattern across Gavin’s cheekbones and nose, "Tina says she and Ben are driving.”

“R-Right. Thanks.” Gavin straightened, but his expression was confused and deeply concerned. Connor couldn’t pinpoint what had caused it, assuming perhaps some internal conflict, but remembered quickly that he and Hank had passed by the breakroom during their conversation.

“Did you-" Gavin looked away as Connor spoke, "You heard Hank and I talking?”

“Kinda.”

He hadn’t prepared enough for this, still unsure how exactly to go about breaking the news. Now was the time though, perhaps the only time. Gavin stared at him expectantly, waiting with bated breath.

“I’m sorry, I would have told you sooner, but I wanted to give myself time to decide. Last night finalized my decision.” Connor blinked, looking away, not wanting to watch Gavin’s reaction, “I’m leaving the DPD.”

“What?” Gavin’s voice was empty with shock.

“I’ve been thinking about it for awhile. I may have been created for investigative work, but I’m-- I can choose now.”

“Why would you though? You’re so fucking good at this.”

Connor was designed to be good at it, made to be the most efficient investigative tool at the DPD’s disposal. That was all he was, all he had been. Connor could be more now. “I may be good at it, but it’s not good for me. It’ll take me time to fully adapt to the changes inside myself, I thought having the guidance of cases to work on would help but I’ve only been clinging to the idea that I need someone else to tell me what to do, to give me my purpose. I need to find my own.”

“And the panic attacks?” Gavin muttered pitifully. “You think working at the DPD is makin’ them worse?”

“I know it is.”

“Of course you do, you know everything.” There was no bite to it.

“We won’t stop talking, Gavin. I won’t let us lose what we’ve made here, we’ve worked so hard.” Connor had never been so sure, never more confident in something. The connection between them was solid and unwavering and this change in Connor’s life could only strengthen it, “This will not go to waste.”

“You’ll be happy? Away from the DPD?”

“I hope so.”

“And you’ll be… happy… with me?”

“I know so.”

“Ok.” Gavin breathed, and Connor finally looked at his face. It was tired, resigned. There was also a sad smile on his lips and when their eyes met, a wave of that thing Connor knew they both shared came over him.

Warm, bright, safe, sweet.

“I hope this doesn’t cross a boundary, Gavin, but I have a gift for you.” Now was as good a time as any, as they stood in the middle of the hall with officers passing around them life the world didn’t exist except in the space between them.

“Pretty sure I’m supposed to give _you_ a going away present.”

Connor smiled, “Well, think of it as yet another gesture of my appreciation towards you. You’ve been more of a help to me than you could ever imagine.”

He pulled out the package, handing it over and watching Gavin shakily accept it. He basked in the feeling of the man’s hand brushing against his and the small wavering small on his lips.

“T-Thanks Connor, I--”

The plastic CD case was revealed under his tugging of the wrapping paper, and Gavin’s eyes widened as he recognized the album, mouth hanging open.

“I'm aware you said you didn’t actually like their music but you expressed anger at the fact you had lost your copy. I happened upon this and thought perhaps… perhaps you would like to have it, even if just for the sentimentality of it.”

“I--” Gavin remained speechless, knuckles white as the gripped the case hard enough Connor thought it’d crack. There was a glowing happiness about him despite the quiver of his lip, staring down at the CD in his hands.

“I inspected the disk myself, it’s a little scratched but it still works.”

A damaged thing didn’t mean it was broken.

Moments passed, Gavin’s fingers rubbing against the rough edge of the case’s hinge as his pinky traced the wild, untamed font of the band’s name printed on the top right corner. He seemed far away for a moment, lost in another time, and then as soon as he left, he was back. His eyes were dazzling and full of wonder.

“Tina wants to leave as soon as she’s done in the washroom.” Connor murmured, “Shall we meet her out front?”

Gavin nodded, reluctantly pushing the CD into his pocket, “Hey Connor? Again… ah, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Gavin.”

Walking through the precinct _(an unlocked cage)_ with Gavin felt like how Connor imagined floating through a human dream would feel like. Everything was a little softer than reality should allow, blurred where it didn’t matter and crystal clear where it did.

Something was building, something Connor was ready for. It was rising up and it didn’t need a definition, there would be time to put words to these feelings and experiences as he grew and learnt but for now, Conor could just let them fill him up and spill out and mingle with everything pouring out of Gavin.

They walked together, side by side.

Connor didn’t know how humans felt when they became attracted, enamored with another person. He couldn’t quantify or compare, could only accept what was inside and what was happening.

_(I am alright)_

_(I have feelings)_

_(I have feelings for him)_

Outside the precinct, Anderson was leaning against the wall and chatting amicably with Ben and Chris and a couple other officers. Eyes glanced to them as they exited the building and took the few steps out early March night.

Hank stood just outside the doors with a small group of officers, all faces Connor recognized, people he was slowly building friendships with as he grew more comfortable with himself. Chris, Ben, Evita, Riley, Rachel.  

“Hey Gavin, Connor.” Chris Miller waved, smiling.

“Hello, Chris.” Connor returned, turning to stand by Hank after letting his hand brush Gavin’s arm, “Tina will be out shortly.”

Ben was sitting on the ground next to Riley Lewis, smoking a burned down cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers,  “We know where we’re going? Last place she took us to was… not great.”

“Little place downtown. Been there before, it’s alright.” Hank replied, giving Connor a pat on the back and a knowing look, noticing the android watch Gavin linger near the doors a short distance from the group.

“You’ve been to every bar in Detroit, Hank.”

“So my opinion matters more.”

Connor gave a short laugh, and turned his cheerful smile toward Gavin and gave a jerk of his chin and a small wave to come over.

The man hesitated, but he shuffled forward and found a place against the wall to stand, hands buried deep in his pockets. Catching his eye, Connor backed up to stand beside him and matched his pose against the wall, “Are you excited?

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Tina’s booming voice interrupted all chatter, “Alright let’s get going, guys.”

She stood with a wide stance a few feet away, dressed in a casual civilian outfit with several layers of light flowing cotton and a quaint brown skirt.

When Gavin agreed to ride in the same car as Connor, the android nearly kissed him. It was an action command that piled up over and over in his queue no matter how many times he cancelled it, shocked by the sudden urge he’d never felt before. This was not something his coding have allowed, this selfish want _(is it selfish?)_ , but he felt it and was experiencing this overwhelming desire, brand new and radiant and bizarre.

Even if he couldn’t act on it _(not yet?)_ , it was a good feeling despite the clutter on his UI.

A machine didn’t want anything. A machine didn’t want to press it’s lips against the warm mouth of a man who’d taught it to accept, to believe.

In Tina’s car, they sat together in the back seat with their knees touching and their breath mingling in the confined space, even when the window was rolled down and the night breeze filled the emptiness.

As they drove, Connor ducked his head and whispered to Gavin, “It’s unfortunate that I cannot drink with you.”

“There aint a robot drink, or drunk program or somethin’?”

“There have been some experimental codes developed, but they’re all third party and I’d rather not risk it.” Connor smiled, “Someday I’m sure a trusted company will come out with such a product, after all-- android technology has become a hot market with Cyberlife out of the picture.”

“Are there even any trusted companies yet? I mean, Cyberlife was kinda the top dog and had all the tech and info, right?”

This was an area Connor was very familiar with, navigating the new world of android technology. For the first month after Cyberlife officially shut down, it had become a very dangerous place. Finding suitable and reliable repairs was next to impossible until the work went into defining the parameters of an android repair license, and the quality regulations of the new parts being manufactured outside of the original patent company.

“There are three companies that had managed to touch the market even while Cyberlife dominated and controlled most android production, and now they’ve been buying the rights to Cyberlife tech as fast as they can. They’re fighting for any chance they can get to be involved in the growing demand for android technology and service, especially from Jericho.”

“Yeah, I heard your little gang has really fuckin’ grown, huh.”

“You could say that.”

“Do you still uh, hang out with that weirdo android messiah?”

“I keep contact with Markus and help out at Jericho occasionally.” He and Markus hadn’t been in touch as much lately until recently, though Connor had been heavily involved in the initial rebuilding of Jericho post revolution. While ruminating over his decision to resign, he’d had several conversations with the android leader about the choices he had. Markus was always a stable source of advice, with a confident and calm tone and inspiring ideas, “I’m thinking about volunteering with construction at the new community center after I leave the DPD. Just for awhile, as I decide on a career path to pursue.”

It was a piece of Cyberlife property gifted over to Jericho, previously unutilized in the past months but now there were designs to create a large community hub for androids to gather in a safe space. There were plans for a library, a real one, funded by the state and the Manfred foundation. Almost all androids were capable of processing digital files within seconds, taking much of the enjoyment out of reading for recreation. Many had found enjoyment in the labour of physical books, though still reading them far faster than any human ever possibly could.

“Just, uh, make sure you take time to like, take care of yourself. That’s what this is all about, right? Taking time to figure yourself out and shit?”

Connor chuckled, “That is true, but I feel I would grow quite bored if I didn’t have something to do.”

Hank’s words echoed in his head, warning him of the dangers of boredom. Certainly the novelty would wear off but at least Connor had plans and ideas and even boredom seemed an exciting prospect to experience.

“Well, just don’t fuckin’ use it as a distraction. If you’re gonna leave me and DPD to go soul searching, don’t do dumb shit like sit around with a bunch of construction workers.”

_(I’m not leaving you)_

“I would be overseeing construction plans, as I have very advanced pre-construction simulation programs. It would be nice to put them to a use other than police work for once. And I am most certainly not leaving you.” His internal GPS informed him that were arriving at their destination, and louder he said, “I believe we are almost here, correct Tina?”

“Right-O.” She nodded, turning into a large parking lot lit by street lamps and the bright lights of the bar’s neon signs.

Connor slipped out of the car just before the other passengers disembarked and made his way around to Gavin’s side. As the man stepped out, Connor instinctively pulled his arm around Gavin’s and linked their elbows.

He gave the android a startled glance to which Connor responded with an encouraging smile, hoping he’d allowed him to have this moment of physical connection as they walked to where the group was forming a few yards away.

Hank gave them an unreadable look, as Tina grinned. The others didn’t pay them much mind, some purposefully trying not to glance their way.

“Alright guys, as we all may know, Connor’s resigning from the DPD.” Tina announced as everyone gathered, “So tonight's not just a celebration that somehow we all fucking survived last night but also a little going away party. So everyone on their best behavior and have fun.”

“We can’t do both at the same time, Tina.” Chris laughed.

Tina’s eyes rolled, “Let’s go, folks.”

She spearheaded the group into heading towards the bar, Connor lingering near the back with Gavin on his arm. He enjoyed the feeling of the muscles of his bicep flexing and moving against Connor. Organic life was still fascinating to him, the tangible feeling of living humming against the android.

The connection was broken as they reached the doors, Gavin slowly pulling his arm away. Connor understood, though couldn’t help the disappointment.

He still understood that two men walking arm and arm had people making certain assumptions, ones Gavin may not be ready to handle yet, though not inaccurate in their assumption. The delusion born from naivety and inexperience, that the nature of his relationship with Gavin was built purely platonically, was growing weaker and weaker. Perhaps that made it all the more difficult for Gavin to remain at his arm and for Connor to let him go.

The bar had dimmed atmospheric lighting and warm tones of gold and green, with an interestingly french country design style. It was homely and pleasant, clean, though populated by patrons of moderate to severe intoxication.  

Tina led them all to a few more private tables near the back of the establishment. Gavin seemed increasingly agitated, stiff and anxious the further they got.

Hank guided Connor to a chair near the middle of one of the tables, seating himself next to the android. To Connor’s delight, Gavin took the other side with an unsteady smirk. He was still radiating discomfort, but Connor was pleased the man chose to sit with him.

<!-- Action Command → Kiss Detective Gavin Reed

:: Cancel

It was still alarming each time the prompt showed up on his UI, taking him off guard. Connor was unused to such actions as well as the desire to perform them. The idea of growing used to them concern him though, should he become too comfortable and not cancelling them in time.

If his data was correct, Gavin would not be opposed to such a thing but all things certainly had a place and a time. Perhaps in the future Connor could explore this side of the human experience, physical affection and intimacy, but for now everything was new and hesitant.

Connor felt Hank nudge him, leaning forward conspiratorially, “Pssst.”

“Yes Hank?” He whispered, becoming aware of the voices chatting around him as the world came back into focus.

“You should talk to him.”

“We _have_ been talking.”

“I mean, you guys should talk to each other about how you feel… about each other. You know what I mean?” Hank grimaced, “I’m not super stoked about the idea, but you-- fuck, kid you look like you’re looking at the…”

“At the?”

“Nevermind. Just, you know what I mean, right? About talking to him?"

“I… I believe I do.”

Connor noticed Gavin whispering to Tina, and perhaps a little hypocritically, spoke up, “Everything all right?”

“Peachy.” Tina gave a thumbs up, “Pass the drink menu?”

Hank begrudgingly slid it to her across the table. For a moment, there was a whirlwind of activity as everyone passed menus around, Chris nearly giving Connor one before realizing that it was unnecessary and instead handed it to Gavin.

“Thanks.” He grunted from Connor’s side, eyes moving over the page but clearly not really reading it. “Uh, order me a beer, will ya Tina? I gotta go take a piss.”  
  
“Sure.”

It was quite possible the man genuinely needed to use the facilities, but if so then he could tell him so when Connor got there. Almost immediately after Gavin left, Connor was standing and following after. He ignored the knowing looks he got from the table, focused only on Gavin.

“Gavin? Are you alright?” He knocked twice on the bathroom door he’d seen him walk into.

_(You’re being overbearing)_

Connor had always struggled with maintaining boundaries, perhaps he was crossing one. The man’s behaviour had been worrying though and he couldn’t leave it be if something was actually wrong.

“Yeah!” His voice cracked from behind the door, not lessening Connor’s concern.

“I am uncertain that is true.”

“Shouldn’t you know everything?”

“Remember, I told you that you-- you are unpredictable to me. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, I just, um, Tina gave a me a mini of gin.”

That quelled some of his fears, though he didn’t quite understand the logic of smuggling alcohol into a bar, “Alright, I understand. But if there’s- if there’s anything wrong, don’t hesitate to confide in me.”

The door creaked open and Gavin stepped out, face still drawn with discomfort, eyes shifting around the room. Connor could see the empty bottle poking out of his pocket so at least he knew he was entirely lying.

“I’m just, uh--”

“You’re anxious. I hope I did not embarrass you, and I hope you know you have no reason to feel anxiety here tonight.” He stepped closer unconsciously, not learning his lesson from last night but this time Gavin didn’t back away.

“Can’t help it. I’m just not… not used to this stuff.” Gavin’s hand reached out to grip Connor’s sleeve, and it was like a physical memory of his actions in the warehouse, begging him not to go. “I dunno how to…”

“It’s alright Gavin. You’re very dear to me, I can show affection in whatever way you please, and you can interact with the group however you please. There are no expectations--”

“D-Don’t-- don’t do that. I mean, do whatever you wanna. I want you to… to do what you want. I like you making choices for yourself.”

With a certain sadness and a certain fondness, Connor smiled at him, “I don’t wish to upset you or push you too far.”

“I want to be.” he blurt out, “I-- I want you to push me.”

Connor’s thirium pump beat faster, his blue blood coursing through his synthetic veins and his body temperature rose, “I don’t wish to overwhelm you. I know what it’s like--”

“Can we-- can we talk outside? Somewhere more private?” Gavin released his sleeve, but Connor let himself wrap his arm around Gavin with his hand on the small of the man’s back with a nod. 

After Gavin didn’t pull away or give any sign of displeasure, Connor began guiding him through the bar towards the darkness seen past the bar windows, towards the light seen through it.

“Connor…” Gavin whispered, as Connor reached to open the door for them.

“Yes?”

“I… If I’m--if I’m ever and asshole to you, tell me, ok? Even better, tell Hank. Tell _Tina_.”

“Why do you say this?” The man’s words have hurt him in the past, even recently _(‘so fuck off’)_ , but with each hurt came change and growth and not once since that night had Gavin spoken with the intent to harm or push Connor away. The closest he’d come was his unconscious defences that came up around vulnerability, brief moments where his words would grow slightly sharp or cut off with a half hearted ‘ _shut up’_.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” There was no sharpness to his words now. They were soft and sincere, nothing between Connor and the honest core inside Gavin. No walls, no defences.

Connor’s hand moved to curl around Gavin’s side, just above his hips, “You won’t.”

“You’re so fucking-- Connor, you’re so fucking cool and I used to hate you for that. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you, Gavin.” He did, with all his being.

“I’m a dick, and I know it, but even if I can’t just… change my personality, I can change what I want, and how I get it, and I--I’m gonna do that.”

Connor’s arm tightened around him, and he pulled him around the corner into an alley entrance next door to the bar, “I believe in you Gavin.”

For a moment, Gavin pulled away from Connor’s grasp and he felt the emptiness of his hand more than he ever thought possible but then he was back, hands coming up to grip the collar of Connor’s shirt.

Staring into the heat and intensity of Gavin’s eyes, the android felt himself move closer and he brushed his fingers against Gavin’s jaw. He felt the texture of his stubble, warmth of his skin, the movement as his teeth clenched.

“I’ve been dreaming about this since the first second I saw you.” Gavin murmured, and Connor’s queue filled up with action commands that came straight from the most human parts of him. Parts that wanted, yearned, felt, loved.

<!-- Action Command → Kiss Detective Gavin Reed

Connor tipped Gavin’s chin up slightly, but made no move to fulfill the urge.

In seconds, the hands on his shirt pulled and their mouths met.

Connor’s mind came alight with information, the chemical makeup of Gavin’s saliva, the temperature of his lips, the taste of Gavin’s mouth logged as sweet and sharp, the alcohol content of the faint traces of gin.

It didn’t matter the exact temperature, Gavin’s mouth was warm. It was soft, and yet rough, moving desperately against Connor’s-- passionately, and it was good.

It felt good.

_(I feel, I want, I have)_

_(I have this, this has been given to me)_

_(I want this)_

The hands gripped tighter, then in one motion slid across Connor’s chest to grab his shoulder to pull him closer. The height difference and Gavin’s posture with Connor pulled up nearly on top of him had the android almost down to one knee, having to support himself against the alley wall to keep from falling.

It was perfect.

_(Bring me closer)_

Connor’s other hand cupped Gavin’s jaw, caressing and revelling in all the sensations the man had to offer. It was almost too much and yet Connor wanted more.

Is this what being human was?

Is this was being real felt like?

“God damn it.” Gavin growled into the kiss, hot breath flooding Connor’s mouth. He inhaled slowly, wanting to keep the man’s breath in his lungs.

Hands on shoulders jerked once more so their chests where flush together, which meant nearly all of Connor’s weight was pulled onto the man. Expectedly any sense of stability was foregone and both their knees buckled.

Neither let go of each other.

Gavin’s mouth parted further as they collapsed, teeth clicking against Connor’s in a wonderful way.

The shorter man pulled his arms further around Connor, lowering them to wrap around his back and better support the two as they kissed. The android managed to get his knee out to hold them up from falling completely to the ground.

He was starting to lose himself in the kiss though, barely aware of anything other than Gavin and his body and the way it made Connor’s feel. The novel wetness of his mouth, the heat, the hands pressed tight against his back and the thud of Gavin’s heart against Connor’s thirium pump.

Eventually Gavin slowly pulled his mouth away, and just gazed into Connor’s eyes. They were glazed with desire but sparkling and bright.

“Gavin--” Connor whispered, with so much to say and yet there was nothing to say. No words could properly describe how he felt, how this felt.

“Connor.” He breathed, and shifted his body so his knees better supported Connor and his hands pulled up to cradle the back of the android’s neck and kissed him again. “I have you.” Gavin didn’t break the kiss fully, moving away just enough to whisper into Connor’s lips, “I want you. You’re so good. You’re so good Connor, everything about you-- I want, I want it, this is what I want and I know it and you showed me, Connor.”

_(You’re so good, Gavin. I want it, this is what I want and I know it, and you showed me)_

His UI was becoming overwhelmed with action commands and prompts and thoughts and desires, and above all else, sensations.

Connor had never been touched like this before. He’d never had someone do this with him, never wanted to before. His tactile sensors were going into overdrive, translating each movement, pressure, touch, into a sea of addicting, delectable data that felt so right and so natural despite the intensity of it. It wasn’t like falling into a loop of analysis, committing himself to this, and this man giving him this gift was something that bordered on how overwhelming a religious experience would be.

“Gavin…” His hand tightened against Gavin’s jaw, not enough to hurt, just enough to ground himself as he started getting pulled in with the tide, “You make me feel-- noun, unidentified, search failed-- too much, no, so much.”

“Do you like it? Are you ok?”

“I’m going to o-overload, and I want it. I like it. Gavin. Gavin.” Connor smiled despite the harshness of his breath. Everything was Gavin. There was nothing else but Gavin. “Gavin. Gavin.”

Gavin shifted their combined bodies a little to the side to lean against the wall, hand coming to gently run through Connor’s hair. The feeling was divine. No wonder Sumo liked being pet so much.

He leaned into the touch, shivering as his system stuttered when Gavin’s breath ghosted his ear as he whispered, “Are you ok?”

“Yes. Ok. I am. I-It’s a lot but I-I-I-I want want want want want want want want-”

_(I want, I want, I want, I want, I want, I want)_

“Connor, you’re so--” Gavin grinned slightly, tenderly, but began pulling away.

At first Connor clung.

For once though, Gavin wasn’t the life raft, Gavin was the sea and Connor wanted to drown in him.  

“I want this. You have me.”

“I do.” Gavin whispered, “God, I do.”

“Please--”

“Listen, I’m not drunk but that shot has me a little buzzed, and you’re… overloading, this is something that I--that we can figure out later. Right now I’m just… happy.”

“I’m happy.” Was this what being drunk felt like? The android couldn’t become intoxicated with the use of alcohol, but he felt drunk on Gavin’s presence and touches. “Gavin, you make me happy.”

“You’ve done so much for me Connor, and I was such a-- I was so bad to you, back then. I was a part of your-your childhood. Your programming. You had to take that beating from me because you had to but now you’re choosing to-to care about me and trust me.

“You’re right, I chose to. Just like I chose to feel, to wake up, to deviate. I chose _you_ . I fought for you, against myself, against Hank, against my fucked up wiring--”

“You’re not fucked up.”

Connor could fall in love with Gavin. He might already have started to, he had no base of reference. All he knew was this was good and safe and he wouldn’t let it go.

“Then neither are you.”

“I-- shut up.” Gavin leaned in and gave Connor a small, brief kiss on the corner of his mouth that made the android want to pull him back into their embrace, pull his mouth back to his, “Thank you, Connor. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“You sound like me.” Connor murmured, pressing his face against Gavin’s cheek, “Do you also have a glitch in your system?”

“You’re the glitch in my system, princess.”

Connor wanted to laugh, to fall to the ground and stare up at the sky, to dance, to listen to music with Gavin, and more. He wanted to experience life with him. Real life, human life, android life, combined. Together.

The moment was broken by the sound of shouts, their names call from the direction of the bar.

“Ah, that’s unfortunate.”

“This isn’t a one time thing, Connor.” Gavin whispered fiercely, hand gripping Connor’s hip and waist as though something was trying to steal him away, “I fought for this too, I tore myself apart and refound myself just to be able to be right here, and do exactly this.”

“From the first second you saw me, hm?” Connor murmured, “All this time?”

“There’s always been something wrong that I felt and it turned out so right.”

“The first second you saw me walk into the interrogation room.”

The voice kept calling, and let it. Hank could wait. This moment couldn’t. For all it felt like one of the older man’s guilty pleasure rom coms, it was exactly what Connor wanted to feel and hear.

“I was so pissed because you were so hot and smart and you would take everything from me, and you were so bitchy and it got me so bothered in so many ways.”

The words sent renewed jolts of desire through him, mostly from the voice rather than the words. It was low and growled with adoration and lust. It hit something primal inside Connor.

Gavin pulled his hand up to grip Connor’s tie tight, and murmured in his ear, “This isn’t over.”

“Connor! Gavin! We know you horny sons of bitches are out there! I’m freezin’ my fuckin’ nuts off!”

“This isn’t over.” Connor confirmed, giving him one chaste, sweet last kiss before standing on weak legs, almost struggling to help Gavin up. “How are we doing this?”

“You walk out first and ah-- whatever, who cares, let’s just go.”

Gavin still slowly pushed Connor ahead of him, letting him take the lead. Before stepping out around the alley corner, the android let his fingertips brush the delicately soft skin of Gavin’s inner wrist, feeling the pulse point there. Then the connection was broken and Connor straightened his spine, straightened his tie, and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“There you are. Jesus Christ, kid.” Hank stalked towards them looking annoying but with a quirked smile hung on his face. “You fucking--”

“Not quite, Lieutenant.” Connor interrupted smoothly, taking a moment to fix his jacket over his shoulders where Gavin had disheveled it, “We may go back now, apologies for keeping you waiting.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He shook his head in exasperation.

Hank glanced at Connor, then at Gavin behind them, then sighed. As the older man made his way back to the bar where Tina was waiting at the entrance, Connor waited for Gavin to reach his side and repeated his earlier motions of linking their elbows.

This time, Gavin smiled in contentment.

“I was thinking,” Connor murmured, “I know for a fact that you don’t do much in your off time. Most of it is spent sleeping, in fact, if my partial data is at all accurate, you likely sleep an average of four hours more than necessary.”

“I dream a lot.” Gavin grunted, “I like ‘em.”

“Perhaps, though, instead of going to bed early or sleep in late, perhaps we could attend some events or do some activities together.”

“I, uh… like… dates?”

“Of the sort.”

“Like--like what.”

“Walks in the park, perhaps you can help me find some workshops to broaden my interests, and I’m always informed on latest news regarding all local cuisine and specials.”

“So… dates.”

“Would you like them to be?” The idea was thrilling.

At Gavin’s nod, happiness re-bloomed inside him. It hadn’t wilted much during the short walk, but now it was blossoming more than ever into something deeply rooted.

Gavin opened the door for them, speaking quietly as they walked into the bar, “I--I have a lot to figure out. But I want this. I want-- I want you.”

“We’re both learning, and we’re both a little damaged. It’ll take time, but I want to spend that time with you.”

Stopping them just a little ways away from the table, Gavin twisted around so he could face Connor and wrapped his arms around his waist. It was more physical than Connor would have thought the man comfortable with when around so many people, though no one had seemed to notice their approach.

Gavin further surprised him in the most wonderful way, moving to hug him tightly. Connor reciprocated immediately. It felt good to have Gavin in his arms, to have Gavin holding him. It felt right.

_(There is nothing wrong with me)_

_(I am not a failed prototype)_

_(I am alive)_

Connor's head rest against Gavin's, inhaling, pressing his cheek against the man’s ruffled hair. One of the arms fell from Connor’s waist to pull one of Connor’s hands from behind his back, thumb running across his knuckles like a chaste kiss, “Can I see?”

For half a second Connor processed the request, ‘ _Can I see?’_ , but something in Gavin’s eyes staring down at the hand made him realize and he slowly deactivate the skin starting at his fingertips all the way down to his wrist, revealing the white polymer of his structure.

Connor didn’t look at his hand, instead kept his gaze fixed on Gavin’s face as the man’s fingers intertwined with his.

He could look at him forever, there was so much to see, so much to discover. About Gavin, and about himself. This was what he wanted.

There was no pressure to be anything other than alive. His coding didn’t matter, Cyberlife didn’t matter, nothing did except for the act of feeling and understanding. Gavin accepted him and wanted what was best for the both of them and that was a wonderful thing. Holding the man in his arms, their fingers entwined, Connor could never regret deviating.

He could never imagine giving this up for anything.

This was real.

Coding, programs, those were things that would change and grow with him, that he would learn to adapt to and how to manage. They didn’t matter, weren’t real in the grand scheme of things.

This was real, and so was the happiness, and so was Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's over!  
> Well, not really over. A sequel should be coming out sometime in the next week, I have some things to attend to so I'll try to get at least a chapter or two out but there may be a brief delay in updates.
> 
> Thank you to all who've read this far!


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